The Sum of I
by Smothered By Moths
Summary: Ask an adventurer what they do, and they will tell you a hundred stories. Ask them why, and they will only tell you one.
1. Why I Killed Myself

**Chapter 1: Why I Killed Myself**

* * *

He stood in the doorway. It wasn't unlike anything one would see in any sort of public establishment; the brooding, hooded, silent warrior that could have easily passed for a lone hero or typical assassin. What drew my attention to this sudden creature was three-fold.

One, as I mentioned, he was hooded. Yet it wasn't a common color – it was red. A red hood.

Two, upon his wrists he wore separated prison cuffs.

And three, Ormil was already staring at him with an amalgamation of both intense curiosity and subtle concern.

The Argonian, in turn, set his gaze on the elf. I continued to glance between the two, making no attempt to be duplicitous in regards to my actions. Luckily, though, neither cast their attention on me. For who was I but a simple patron? Being important in this situation was only paramount if I was to gain something from this silent connection obviously pointing towards a relationship previously forged from some unknown event.

Only moments later though the mystery vanished, and the red-hooded Argonian boldly made his way to the innkeeper. The clamor of the two or three other rabble wasn't cacophonous in the slightest, but combined with the noise of a boat it was enough to block out the quick whispers they fervently shared with each other.

So it was that I decided to turn my attention back to the article in front of me. There was a plate of food to the side as well – a crostata, to be exact – but the rocking of the ship dissuaded my stomach from its earlier whining for consumption and left me a few gurgles less than voracious.

I didn't mind.

Neither could this emperor, either. Honestly, I didn't even know there was an emperor, but I suppose that was to be expected given the circumstances of my previous living arrangements. The article went on to explain in less than necessary detail this emperor's life, ascribing many of these oddly linked events to such concepts of fate and divinely-crafted destiny. Well, not conspicuously, of course, I just learned over the years that a man's – an important man's – obituary often contains biases towards the idea that every major event is connected in some way.

I had never heard of a sorcerer taking over the throne for nearly a decade. Then again, I also never heard of the emperor.

I didn't even know what a "warp" was, much less of one happening in the west.

I did recall some floating rumors a few years back regarding something having to do with a red mountain. But that's only because of the close proximity the province has with my home.

No, the only interesting piece of information that I arbitrarily decided to pay attention to was the fact that the writer of this article claims that the emperor was in fact murdered by some unknown party. As well as his sons. A conspiracy on the part of those currently governing the land? Something more sinister? A familial night of bread-baking gone horribly wrong? Who cares? I certainly didn't. I took an interest in this part of the article, of course, but that is irrelevant.

At this point I turned my gaze upwards again and noticed that Ormil was curiously absent. Yet there stood the Argonian, clearly waiting for the elf's return, whether it be for a drink, confirmation of the night's lodgings, or – and possibly more accurately – information.

A suspicious looking fellow coming to an inn for information? So quickly after the surmised assassination of some of the most important people in this Empire's history? It was easily settled. I rose to meet the man.

When I approached the bar I fashioned myself in a way that didn't make it noticeable that I was taking in the lizard's appearance. Leather armor, dirty. Nothing out of the ordinary. His scales were a bright orange, as were his eyes – not uncommon given his geographical location, unless he wasn't in fact from Cyrodiil at all.

"Are you from Cyrodiil?" I suddenly asked, surprising myself in the process.

The orange Argonian didn't respond. I glanced upward in thought; where most would liken this to being true to the "lone warrior's" personality, I instead opted to believe it was simply because he wasn't going to just answer a random question that could have been pointed to anyone in a public area.

"Sorry," I apologized to him despite just not figuring out that he was not going to reply without first a greeting. But how to greet someone with no name? I shrugged and stepped close enough to be standing next to him. "Hi."

This time a reaction was garnered. He slowly turned his head to meet my eyes with his. They were large, as was common for an Argonian, and they were intense. I mentioned that they were orange, but there was something in the way he stared with them, something in the way his battle-seen scales set upon his face that spoke of something I wasn't familiar with. Not that I was intimidated, of course. From the onset of his turn and the response he gave following mine, I have every doubt in the world that he was attempting to accomplish that.

"Hello," he spoke. It was too quick for me to identify any sort of accent.

"…I saw you walk in," I awkwardly stated. I mentally shrugged; I wasn't trying to get him into my bed – yet, anyway, depending on how this relationship unfolds, and assuming of course there will be one, mutual or not – I was attempting to glean him for my own curiosity. A fault, I suppose.

Unfortunately, he didn't answer to this. What _was _fortunate, though, was that he didn't turn away from me, indicating that he, too, was trying to figure me out. Presumably, he assumed I wanted something from him.

"…And I saw you with Ormil." A statement that was ambiguous in the clearest sense of the word. "Talking with Ormil," I corrected in case he took my previous statement as something of a scandal. Although, in hindsight, perhaps that would have been better, since he would either rebuke or affirm the sentiment.

"I was," he said.

Now I mentally sighed. On the one hand he seemed fairly ordinary, which was disappointing. His responses were that of a typical citizen, assassin or not. However, in the seconds following said disappointment I came to an epiphany. The circumstances regarding what was being said didn't follow a straight set of logic that has been so set in this land over the course of the years. His continued attention with the lack of questioning my motives proved to be a combination that equated to being intelligent enough to not assume anything of the other party. One could argue that he was simply retarded, but remember then that his presence alone called for the attention of the innkeeper in place of his own patrons. No, there was an intelligence here that wasn't like the others I have spoken with. I smiled and reached into my pouch.

"My name is Secura Vant," I introduced myself. "I'm an officiant of the East Empire Company based on Solstheim. How would you like to accompany me on a journey across the Imperial Province?"

* * *

_**Author's Note: Because I loathe these, expect "author's notes" for this story to be at a bare minimum. They will mostly be used to give credit to certain concepts created in various mods made for The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.**_

_**For now, this one will be used to clarify the purpose behind Secura's diction. Her verbose dialogue - and convoluted way in which she implements this verbosity - is intentional. This part of the story is being told through her point of view, and there are story reasons for why she thinks like this.**_


	2. The Ancestor

**Chapter 2: The Ancestor**

* * *

"These places were always reminiscent of a bathtub, wouldn't you agree?"

Rasi'Mar turned his usual hardened gaze towards me as he pulled a torch off its sconce. Fairly typical of him that he didn't respond, and even though we had only met the day before, I had somewhat grown used to it.

"Bandits are up ahead," he spoke after a few minutes of perusing the marbled hall. "Do you want me to deal with them first?"

"I'm sure there have been plenty of people over the years deriding these hooligans for their odd comportment," I snickered. Perhaps penuriously so, given my own fortunate standard of living.

"Society isn't hospitable towards the inhospitable," he answered my quip. "Well?"

I glanced down the hall at the faint light of an obvious campfire in the near distance, and then back to him.

"If you desire to, be my guest. I can handle… possibly one if he or she decides to approach me," I reassured as I patted the mace at my hip. After all, he was supposed to be a companion, not a bodyguard.

Rasi'Mar said nothing, however. He simply lowered his head, quietly pulled out the iron sword from its sheath, and darted forward.

* * *

"I'm sorry. I'm not interested," the red-hooded Argonian stated as he turned back to the counter. Ormil had opened the door to his quarters and reentered the tavern.

Ubiquitously I was devastated by his response. However, I quickly fashioned an idea, a scheme of momentous proportions that surely the bards from all over would compose songs of how I defeated this nefarious foe. The foe of course being apathy.

"Forgive me the delay," Ormil apologized, eyeing me for a brief moment before returning his attention to the leather-clad lizard. "In any case, I believe I remember where they now frequent –"

A jingle of assorted metals reverberated through the inn, a sound that had enough of a presence that the low whispers and intricate thoughts of the deprecated sat silent. The small, but still sizeable, sack of gold landed intimately on the wooden bar.

"Cease and desist, tavernkeeper," I interjected. "Part with your information and this handout will find a new home in the harbor. At least for right now. Let me share some words with our mutual friend."

Ormil immediately went silent.

The Argonian, now obviously irritated by the sudden pause in his detective work, turned to me with the slightest hint of a frown. "I gave you my answer."

"But I haven't given you my story, and thus the reason why you should reconsider."

His frown deepened.

"Ormil…"

"Uh… I'm sorry, you know how my business has been waning as of late… if it's just to hear her out, what harm can there be? All three of us will win in the end," Ormil explained.

The gruff, stoic warrior in a situation like this would drop any pretense of general politeness and strike the insolent money grubber, demanding that he give him the information he needed so that he can continue on his quest, hinting at a darkened, deeply scarring past. Yet in the moments that preceded his answer I saw none of this in his demeanor – his irritation remained in that slight frown, standing as a testament to his patience. A mere sigh escaped his reptilian nostrils and he nodded. I was, of course, infinitely curious at this response. He was quiet, intense, and willing to listen to reason.

"Are you alright with joining me at my table?" I asked politely.

It would have made for a surprise that he gestured for me to lead had it not been for the previous action he just demonstrated. I smiled warmly and nudged the sack towards Ormil, who, a little too excitedly, snatched it from its temporary home.

I was the first to sit down, and upon noticing that the Argonian did not follow suit, several emotions bubbled in my breast. Was that previous show of civility merely a deception on his part so that he could hassle me, instead? Did he actually have some bland, brooding past that prevented him from sharing a pleasant conversation with a stranger? Did I forget to bring him a chair? I checked. No, there was one already there, across from me. My mind reeled with the other possibilities, though.

"How did you know I wanted information?" he suddenly asked, breaking me from my nonsensical musings.

As I was just concentrating, I didn't answer immediately. Once more he showed that same patience, and with the calmness present in his voice, my interest in this person was revitalized.

"Your hood. Your wrists. And his eyes. Three-fold," I answered. "I'm sure there's a story, stranger, but I'd like for you first to hear mine."

He cocked his head to the side, not out of confusion, but out of something I instantly recognized, because it was the same look I was constantly giving him. Intrigue.

He sat down.

* * *

The Ayleids, while not anything I researched extensively, always had an air of oddity about them, especially when they were brought up in conversation by the local populace. The ruins were that of an underground temple rather than a city, yet descriptions never strayed from misnomering them as "cities". They held no housing to speak of, no buildings aside from the connecting halls and chambers that were generously replete with hazards and traps. A fact of which caused me no end of consternation, as it boggled my mind – why in the world did the Ayleids feel it necessary to arm their "cities" with nearly impossible to see death mechanisms? Did they themselves not care if they perished to their own creation? Or were these supposed cities really something else and the population was merely blind to their purpose?

Regardless of the actual answer, it appeared that my companion did not harbor these suspicions as I did. In fact, it seemed as if he was perfectly familiar with these kinds of areas, almost infallibly so. In the chamber that followed the entry hall, the score of bandits that the ruins had housed were all dead – but the trick of the situation was that Rasi'Mar's dulled, iron blade was not painted in the various hues of red one would find on a simple murderer. In fact, it merely rested by his side. No, instead, he had utilized the traps of the ruins and the bandits' lack of knowledge of the area to his own advantage, and the end of that equation was perfectly clear.

He turned his head to me.

"They have some armor lying around if you wanted to take it," he offered, sheathing his blade and picking his torch back up. "The statue is in the lower chambers. Bandits won't be there."

I decided to take him up on his offer, walking over to a banged up chestplate made of the same material as his sword. Of course, I was no warrior – the machinations of the object in front of me were foreign.

"Um… did you want to help me with this?" I asked, slightly embarrassed.

He didn't hesitate. The Argonian graciously walked over and helped me with the straps.

* * *

"I'm not a babysitter," the Argonian stated firmly.

"Nor am I expecting you to be. While I'm no expert in the field of combat, I can still hold my own against the common rabble," I reassured. "I'm not hiring you on as a mercenary… I just want a companion."

He stared for a few seconds, seemingly mulling my words through. "To what end?" he finally asked.

This was a fair question, and in truth I began to hesitate. The actual answer would have required a slight bit of intimacy, enough so that I didn't think he would be interested in hearing nor would I be interested in sharing. So instead I reverted back to my previous drop of backstory.

"I'm an East Empire employee with no knowledge of the Imperial Province," I admitted, which wasn't altogether false. "This is why I'm not hiring a bodyguard. There is no end goal, here – I simply desire to explore the land in its entirety with some company. You can probably divine that I enjoy talking. And it wouldn't do well to travel with someone as ignorant as I. I doubt any of these people have been past Wawnet." I leaned forward. "But you… you look as if you've travelled the world. You'd make excellent company."

His small frown returned, tipping me off that I had said something to irk him. It didn't take me long to realize what this was, however, after a quick analysis of my wording.

"I'm not a tour guide, either."

"You're not a tour guide, I know."

Both sentences were said at the same time. I continued.

"That isn't what I'm trying to imply," I said, sitting back and rubbing my forehead, knowing unconsciously that said implication was definitely there and I just didn't realize it. "Perhaps I'm just lonely, really. Maybe you can look at my interest as an investment into someone whom I _know _will be travelling a lot. You're not following me. I'm following you."

The Argonian didn't speak for many minutes. His attention was pulled elsewhere, but when I discerned where, it wasn't anything specific. This let me in on the fact that he was thinking. A good sign, at least.

"I picked up the hood as I was escaping prison," he then answered, causing me to blink several times. "This was a few days ago. Don't base large assumptions on minor details."

My own attention this time returned to the article I had previously finished skimming. I noted the timing of both events before continuing the conversation.

"That was only two of my observations. You neglected to justify the third."

Again that sigh escaped from him, but it was followed by a subtle shrug. His eyes then met mine once more, this time though with a sense of definition.

"My name is Rasi'Mar," he suddenly introduced. "And I plan on killing a bandit clan led by a man named Claude Maric."

Murder.

He then turned to Ormil. "Where is he?"

The elf glanced between him and me. I nodded to let him share the information.

"The Roxey Inn."

I sharply glanced back at the Argonian. He was staring at the table, once again seemingly lost in thought.

"So…" I started. "Is that where we're headed?"

He didn't waste any time.

"No. Vilverin."

* * *

The statuette stood atop a pedestal amongst several small crystals. In my readings I recall them being called "Welkynd Stones". Of course, as expected, these didn't allow for my companion to provide any focus.

Vilverin's silence was only filled by the moaning of the walking dead that we actively avoided – due to neither of our weapons possessing the ability to vanquish them – and my incessant rambling over subjects only loosely related to the Ayleids and the oddities surrounding them. Rasi'Mar rarely ever responded unless he had to give me specific instructions, whether it be to walk around a disguised pitfall or to stay out of sight of a wraith (a creature I had never seen before and will from this point on pray to every God I know of that such an encounter never occur again), but he did participate once. One that I had resolved to follow up on as soon as we had left this detestable, elaborate tomb.

"…Sorry, I did mention that I enjoyed partaking in conversation…" was how I started that line of inquiry. "Does it bother you?"

In my earlier analyses I described how the stereotypical monotony that was the silent swordsman would have reacted to the behavior I usually encompass. I denoted my talks as "ramblings" because, in essence, that's what they were. Yet in no case did Rasi'Mar provide an example of his perceived archetype; he never rolled his eyes, interrupted me, or made it in any shape or form obvious that he was tuning me out. In fact, with every glance I gave him, I noticed him doing one thing above everything else, including the important focus on survival – he listened.

"No," was all he said to the effect.

So it was that I continued talking until we reached the statuette. He reached for it after double-checking that there weren't any more traps that might have triggered once it was removed from its current setting. Now the single question burned through my mind to the point where I couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Eliminating some bandits in an inn, procuring this unknown statue… what's this all about, Rasi'Mar?" I asked.

And he gave his single answer.

"Revenge."


	3. Gravefinder

**Chapter 3: Gravefinder**

* * *

Revenge was one of those strange words that often evoked many a mixed emotion, regardless of the context in which it is spoken. In a way it acts as a great equalizer – the word, not the action – one who would speak it could cause the other party to part with their greatest secrets, while others would shut down, recalling events that they either participated in or had such doled out to them. In any of these cases, however, I hadn't considered using such a word nor action against anyone I've ever met before.

I had considered that Rasi'Mar was, to a proportionate extent, a murderer; after all, the timing of his "release" from prison (still a mystery to solve, but in due time) along with the supposed assassination of the emperor made for a conspirator's heavenly feast. Yet vengeance wasn't something I gleaned from his character.

In many ways I was disappointed. Such darkened thoughts were consistent with the hooded Argonian's behavior. His silence, his decisiveness in battle, the way he conducted himself with others, that imposing nature… I began to worry I chose a being that in all essence, despite the intellect he so commonly shown, was no better than the common rabble I had tried so hard to avoid.

But then, perhaps in my haste towards attempting to rectify and thus reassure my conscience, I began to latch onto everything I noted that would detract from the usual line up of behavioral paraphernalia. His patience, his willingness to listen, both were oddities I had not recognized in such archetypes he provided, but there was in fact one aspect I didn't actually notice until just now, as I was thinking at length about it. So it was that I decided to bring it up in conversation, given the intimate scenery.

"You don't have an accent."

The fire continued to crackle, flashing the orange hues across his similarly colored scales. His head was at a downward angle that caused his hood to cover his eyes, thus I was unable to judge his reaction. He was seated upon one of the three stools surrounding the fire pit that we found just outside of Vilverin, given to us to graciously by a couple of bandits. His cuffed hands lay softly on his lap, giving me the indication that he wasn't tense; therefore I was to assume he had once again fallen into thought. Even knowing his motives he continued to surprise me, although that just might be because of my geographical origins and how typical it was for a gruff Nord to suddenly get irritated at anything relating to his or her own upbringing.

However, the longer the silence dragged on, the more I began to rethink my stance on his hesitation. Was there another reason to his silence? And then it metaphorically smacked me across my face – he was listening. Again. Or at least, patiently waiting for me to clarify my vaguely put together epiphany. I mentally chided myself for such an offense.

"Er…" I started eloquently. "I mean to say… you _do _have an accent, of course, everyone does. But it isn't that typical Argonian brogue. It sounds very much Imperialistic. Can I assume you weren't born in the Black Marsh?"

"I wasn't," he finally spoke, giving me the satisfaction that I was right in my second assumption. I smiled slightly. "Cyrodiil."

"Ah," I sounded meaninglessly. I should have expected that; possessing an Imperial accent because he was born in the Imperial Province. Way too obvious. "But still… you've demonstrated to understand these vagabonds almost personally, yet your education – or that of which I've been able to discern – is that above their kind."

"Bandits are just people forced out of society's tight constraints," Rasi'Mar said suddenly. I sat back a bit, wondering if I had touched a nerve. Perhaps I was in the presence of a mere marauder after all, and I was just hoping too hard.

"Very opinionated of you," I said softly. He sighed.

"…But still, they are idiots," he said.

From his tone I guessed that he wanted that to be the end of the subject. Yet I wasn't done with this line of thinking, as I was on the verge of learning something about my companion.

"That seems rather unfair, don't you think?" I offered. "If they are unable to live within the laws of society, but their way of living because of it is less than favorable, doesn't that mean their right to exist is negligible?"

A few seconds passed.

"I suppose," was all he said.

I sighed this time, but reigned in my impatience as he did with his… assuming he had any, of course. So with that I diverted the path of discussion on another course.

"You told me earlier today that you were doing this for revenge," I started. At this point he did glance up at me, but again, his expression remained calm. He was listening. "Adding that to our current goal of finding this Claude Maric guy and your recent… hm… discharge from prison… can I assume that Maric was the one who put you in there in the first place?"

And once again my companion receded into the silent recesses of his mind. His gaze was upon the water now, and I guessed that he was piecing together his answer.

"After I kill him tomorrow I will tell you," he then answered, surprising me. I didn't expect him to answer, let alone offer to actually explain himself. "I'm uncomfortable giving details until the job is done."

"Superstitious?" I asked with a small grin.

"Habit," he answered, standing up. My grin faded.

"You're not going to eat?"

"Not hungry," he said while crawling onto the bedroll that was situated outside of the tent, allowing me to take the one inside.

As I thought about it, the skewered rat wasn't all that appealing to me either.

* * *

"Wake up."

The raspy voice of my reptilian companion resonated in my semi-conscious mind. Usually I dislike being awakened by anything other than my own volition, as it typically doesn't work anyway, but there was a subtle authority in his voice that let my unconsciousness understand very quickly that that was going to be the only offer he gave before heading off alone. I instantly sat up.

Then everything went dark. Although, after a few moments of consideration, I had realized that I hadn't somehow slipped back into an unintended sleep, as the cold sensation of scales across my face gave me the hint that Rasi'Mar's hand was latched to it. When he released it I realized that he had to quickly stop me from slamming my head directly into his.

"Er, sorry," I weakly handed to him.

He didn't say anything. He just stood up from his kneeling position and walked over to retrieve the sack that held our recent acquisition. Upon doing so, he slung it over his shoulder and turned towards the rolling hills that escalated north.

"They will be making their way here soon," he stated. "It should take us a couple of hours to intercept them."

"Maric, you mean?" I asked.

He nodded.

* * *

Contrary to his prediction, we did not confront the bandits along the way. We arrived at the Roxey Inn in less than an hour, strangely enough, although I believed that to be due to Rasi'Mar's bracing pace. I of course talked most of the way, mostly out of observation of Cyrodiil's picturesque landscape.

"Have you noticed how perfectly carved out this land is?" I asked him as we climbed the hills. "It's almost as if someone came along and painted over all of the imperfections. No wonder the Imperials picked this place for their Empire. Have you been to Morrowind? That place is a traveler's nightmare."

"There've been allusions to Cyrodiil having been a jungle in written works," Rasi'Mar surprisingly answered. I of course ceased my yapping to let him elaborate. "During Reman's era. The Interregnum."

"Again your education shows," I pointed out. "You owe me a story."

"I could be lying."

He didn't speak after that, which allowed me to continue with my observations, harvesting some of the flora along the way. Whether he took notice or not I wasn't aware of.

When we reached the fence to the inn I noticed that there was a chestnut-colored horse reigned outside of the establishment. I assume my companion noticed as well, given his comment about it.

"A Legionnaire is here," he said off-handedly, as if it meant nothing. I turned to him, silent this time, waiting for me to relay his plan. He didn't say anything at first, but he did do something I didn't expect him to – the sack was handed to me. I shot him a confused look, as I thought the entire point of the excursion into the ruin was related to murdering this fellow. "Stay here. This won't take long."

As he turned to walk away from me, it was at this moment I felt a sense of coldness I hadn't considered previously. This was a man that was literally going to murder not just one person, but several. And yet he spoke of it like it was going to the store. Granted, he killed all of the bandits we found in Vilverin; but that was out of self-defense… mostly. Was this the same? If Maric _had _caused Rasi'Mar's incarceration, was he justified in ending his life?

I suspected the answer would come when he finally told me his reasons. And sure enough, I would hear those reasons relatively soon – as promised, the Argonian did not take long at all. The door to the inn opened, and he was the only one that stepped out. His blade, however, was not bloodied, nor did it even look like he removed it from its sheath. As there were obviously no traps in a tavern, I wondered how he was able to kill all of them without… and then it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps his query was not there. An odd sense of dread and relief filled me, and in that instantaneous moment of emotional confusion that I did not immediately understand, they interplayed with each other until I felt nothing but numbness.

Instead of physically reacting, I watched as Rasi'Mar stood out in the open for several minutes, staring into the horizon. I didn't know what he was thinking. And then it became clear – he turned to the horse beside him and began untying the reigns. This gave me enough energy to move from my frozen state.

"Wait… what are you doing?" I asked, even though on the surface it was obvious.

He pushed himself onto the horse and offered his hand.

"Maric is dead," he said softly. "Our next destination is Anvil. I'd rather not walk."

As I stared up at his face, his expression remained the same. Curious, patient, and willing to listen. Death to him was merely a point of life. An aspect. I realized that at that very moment, taking his hand was akin to accepting who he was and what he stood for; the decay of the society I had fought to earn my place in. Yet it was not this thought that forced my fingers to interlock with his.

We rode west.


	4. They Know Their Doom

**Chapter 4: They Know Their Doom**

* * *

"…'Lorkhan had found the Aedric weakness. While each rebel was, by their separate nature, immeasurable, they were, through jealousy and vanity, also separate from each other. They were also unwilling to go back to the nothing of before. So while they ruled their false dominions, Lorkhan filled the void with a myriad of new ideas. These ideas were legion. Soon it seemed that Lorkhan had a dominion of his own, with slaves and everlasting imperfection ns, and he seemed, for all the world, like an Aedra' –"

"'Thus did he present himself as such to the demon Anui-El and the Eight Givers: as a friend,'" Rasi'Mar finished for me.

I lowered the book and looked down at the back of his hood. A half-smirk crawled its way onto a corner of my mouth.

"I didn't think you'd have this memorized," I stated while withholding a chuckle. "Nor did I take you for a cultist. Why _do _you have this on you, anyway?"

He took a few steps before answering, which seemed to be the norm for him.

"It's not mine. It must have been the soldier's," he answered. "Toss it. Ludicrous nonsense from a delusional author."

Of course I didn't actually throw it aside. Rather, I returned the work to its original pouch latched to the saddlebags. "It seems you have an opinion on this, too. And that you understand it. Care to share?"

"Hmf," he grunted.

I didn't press him. If he was religious, it seemed like a conversation that would have to wait until we had reached our destination, wherever that ultimately led us. Yet…

"It suggests that Shezzar created the world under orders of Sithis to destroy the Gods," he unexpectedly explained. "And by using trickery, the Gods crafted their own demise."

"Aha, so you are as educated as I postulated initially," I said smugly. "Well, at least in this area. Do you know mathematics?" Naturally, he didn't answer this. Whether or not he knew what this meant was up for debate, but I surmised that his silence was more to the effect of having no interest in that line of conversation. So instead, I reverted back to the previous subject. "What makes these ideas ludicrous?"

As if I was given the keys to a lock no one could even begin to understand, the Argonian answered almost on cue. Uncertainty in my choice once again bubbled its way to the surface, but I let it reside to hear his answer.

"We enjoy connecting things that have little relevance with each other together, simply so we can have a better understanding of the world around us," he said.

I glanced up in thought. I was reminded of the article back at the Bloated Float, and then at how I kept thinking about it. I shook my head.

"I see."

Despite Rasi'Mar's initial aversion towards walking to the western banks of the Province, he ultimately decided that being seen with an obviously stolen Imperial Legion horse was not the best idea. So it was that we decided to avoid the roads altogether and cut straight through the Great Forest, giving us some of the most gorgeous scenery I had ever bore witness to. The towers of wooden greenery collected in the sky, providing the land enough shade to be appealing but not too much as to overcast below in a cloak of darkness. Through the cracks of the canopy I could see the vibrant, blue of the heavens and the white, afternoon sun; all of which once again pointed passionately at how perfect the landscape was. Straight out of a storybook.

Whether out of gentleman-like obligation or the need to experience these wonders personally, though, Rasi'Mar decided to allow me the full back of the equine and walk himself, leading in front. Indeed, this meant we were going at a slower pace, but he didn't seem to be tied down to a deadline any longer. A deadline, as I was reminded, that only existed because of his quenched revenge.

"So… I believe you mentioned that you'd tell me your story, Rasi'Mar, once you've murdered the men that apparently sought you harm," I said, assuming of course that they did in fact seek him harm. "I'd really like to know how an escaped prisoner is knowledgeable in religious affairs."

He turned his head back at me. "Are you insinuating that the two are mutually exclusive?" he asked. The statement was not what threw me off-guard – it was the coyness with which he used to say it. I could almost hear a smirk. The Argonian turned back. "I jest. And I believe I said I would tell you when the job is complete."

"I thought you killed Maric."

"Maric was not my only concern."

"Heh, I guess this was to be expected… knowing everything about you was not in our deal," I shrugged, defeated. But once again my companion sought to disarm me, perhaps now to play with my expectations.

"However," he started. "That part of my life is over. Killing Maric was personal. Killing my last target…" he paused, pushing a shrub aside so the horse could pass through unhindered, "…is business.

"I wasn't aware that ending someone's life could be anything other than personal," I suggested. "Isn't murder more intimate than sex?"

Rasi'Mar shrugged.

I shrugged too.

"So okay, then, if Maric is no longer holding you back…"

He sighed. I took the gesture as a way to compose himself.

"I was born in 411. My father was a count," he started. Of course I immediately had questions.

"An Argonian lord? I thought you said you were born in Cyrodiil, not the Black Marsh."

Rasi'Mar shook his head. "Notice that I said 'count', not lord," he corrected. "He was an Imperial. I was adopted. I never knew my actual parents."

"Ah… I see. Continue."

"You wondered how I became as educated as I am," he said. "Well, that's why. I was a privileged child with nothing but written works to keep me occupied."

"You didn't have any friends?" I asked, once again interrupting. Instead of getting irritated, he turned his head to face me again. I had learned not to expect irritation from him.

"I was an Argonian with the same benefits as an Imperial noble. It was implied that I would eventually take the throne as part of my inheritance, seeing as the count had no other kin." This time he did smile, although it was dripping with hollowness. "How many parents would _want _their children to befriend me?"

"Mm," I sounded sympathetically. He turned forward.

"No, I was lonely. But not unhappy. Bored, yes, but I understood the fortune I had in the life I lived. It's why I read. Not necessarily to keep me busy, but to make something of the luck I was given," he said.

"A kid with no friends that enjoyed being quiet and learning. Sounds like the makings of a serial killer."

"Probably," he concurred for some odd reason. "Although, I like to believe that my behavior was solely influenced by my dad –" He paused as if he had made some social faux pas. "…By my adopted father."

"You can say dad," I reassured without much thought.

He remained silent for the next few seconds.

"That was my life until I turned ten," he continued. I cocked my head. "Then Maric and his bandits raided the castle."

"Ah." While it was wrong, I did feel a tinge of unearned satisfaction of knowing the name before the context of the story. Pieces were suddenly coming together.

"This isn't why I wanted revenge, though," he suddenly said, and I noticed that he was looking at me again. Apparently my feelings were enough to be plastered across my face. I frowned as the pieces disassembled once more. "Although I was kidnapped. Typical reason. Ransom. As a child I understood their plight, even if I regarded them as idiots."

"Not that idiotic if they were somehow all able to sneak into a castle," I pointed out.

"That was Maric," he said. "He and two others were the ones who kidnapped me. It was planned. At least, as far as I knew. He never told me how exactly he did it; although to be fair, I never asked. I didn't care."

I held my chin. "Hold on. If they took you for ransom…"

"How did I end up staying with them? I'll again point to Maric," he explained. "On the same night I was kidnapped I attempted to make my escape, and ended up killing one of his men."

"At such a young age. How did that feel?" I asked.

Rasi'Mar then stopped. I wondered if I had inquired a little too personally, but then remembered my faith in his temperance. So it was that he remained consistent. A little too consistent.

"I was young. I wasn't strong. The dagger didn't go through her skull as easily as I expected, but said expectations came from years of reading about people who have already killed. At least I was aware of the technique –"

"Er… I meant emotionally," I flinched.

Rasi'Mar opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and continued to walk. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"To be more specific, I don't remember. I wasn't thinking about my emotions at the time. I just knew I had to escape," he explained. "But he caught me. He had expected that I would attempt to leave, but he didn't know I'd have the resolve to kill the one guarding me. The others opted to punish me there – not to kill me, as that would mean losing their cut – but to send me back with missing limbs. Maric, however dissuaded them."

"He became sympathetic? That quickly?"

"No. He actually found the situation funny. He explained to his group that if a child of ten years was capable of killing one of twenty or beyond, then he didn't want them in his company. Following that he decided to use me as a way of thinning his ranks, to ensure both loyalty and skill. A test. I managed to kill three more of his people before he decided that they were all worthless, and as punishment, he wasn't going to ransom me, thus deny their pay."

"Okay…" I started, suddenly having a lot of questions. I stuck with one, however. "You said it yourself; you were weak. How could you murder, let alone fight, three fully grown men?"

He paused in thought again.

"I don't know. It seems ridiculous. They just seemed…" Rasi'Mar trailed here, almost as if he was lost in his own reminiscence. "…Like they were idiots. They fumbled, flailed, swung randomly, followed only where I was at the time rather than where I was going to be. They made it obvious I was their only target so I knew where their focus was. In hindsight I probably should have killed them all and returned home."

"So why didn't you?" I asked.

"Maric."

Once again silence pervaded the forest for many seconds before he continued.

"I didn't know then why he traveled with any of those idiots. The longer I stayed with him, the more I watched them fail at nearly every task they were given. Maric had to pull everyone's weight. I didn't understand. Maybe that's why I stayed; I wanted to comprehend what was happening in his head. Everyone but him was an idiot. I wanted to know why."

"Seems rather selfish of you to keep your dad waiting like that," I boldly stated. But again, he didn't take this as personally as he probably should have.

"It was," he admitted. "There came a day when I was allowed to return home. When I was allowed to choose the course of my life – to return to my previous existence, or the one I was forced into."

"And you chose the latter. Why?" I asked. The moment I did, though, I realized how presumptuous the question was. I judged his character based on the idea that he was still a bandit. "Sorry…" I muttered under my breath. However, he visibly shrugged.

"Shame, most likely. I was with Maric for six years before I was allowed that choice. And several after that. How was I supposed to tell him why I never returned?" he asked. "So I turned away and returned to my new life."

I studied him for a handful of minutes as he remained silent. He seemed to know that I wanted to ask a question.

"You're very analytical about your emotional responses," I said after a short exhale.

"I suppose," he answered sheepishly. "I guess I just don't lend much thought to it."

This was concurrent with his childhood; he was detached from the outside world, thus it made sense that he'd be equally detached from what was inside as well. How could he know otherwise? Perhaps this was the reason for his patience and appetite for listening – he knew no other course of action. No wonder this Maric fellow kept him around.

"You mentioned that you _didn't_ know why he traveled with those other bandits," I brought up. "Are you implying that you know now?"

Despite any revelation I just made, there was a noticeable coldness that seemed to exude from his being upon asking the question. I suspected then that this led into his quest for revenge.

"…Among banditry… Maric partook in a lot of dungeon exploration. He was intelligent enough to know that the black market was not the only possibility to make money. Treasure seekers would often buy the commodities we would find in tombs, buried keeps, and most of all, Ayleid ruins."

Vilverin. Now it began to make sense.

"Despite Maric's intelligence, though, he was not the _only _one of that caliber. Thus others too realized the value of such markets, and thus we had many rivals. One of which was the mercenary band hired out by the renowned collector residing in the Imperial City…" he explained. "The High Elf named Umbacano."

I glanced to the side. "The name sounds familiar."

"To the East Empire Company? I'm not surprised. I'd imagine he'd use their services in one way or another. Regardless, he was obviously not completely legitimate. And this was apparent when he'd try to have us killed when we raided a ruin that contained something he wanted. We would sell the very commodities he intended to keep for himself. He was a collector – not a businessman. And it didn't take the genius of Maric to realize that there was an opportunity here waiting to be taken advantage of."

I didn't say anything when he paused at this point. He let out a long sigh, and I was only able to hazard a guess as to what he was about to say.

"Maric brokered a deal with Umbacano," he explained. "We'd do one job for him, and after that we'd stay out of his territory and he ours. And it was at this point Maric slipped up."

"I could have assumed as much. I'd be surprised if a collector actually gave up their future finds," I said.

"Given the people Maric surrounded himself with, I wasn't surprised no one warned him. Still, I didn't understand why he didn't anticipate betrayal. It seemed obvious to me at the time; why bother doing a job in the first place? As expected, Umbcano led us into a trap. Yet it wasn't to kill us. No, the Altmer was smart; he knew of Maric's prowess, but most importantly, his reputation. No doubt the Legion would have wanted him detained."

I said nothing. The way he spoke about these events made it seem like they were obvious to everyone and thus insignificant; thus I had to really push myself to pay attention to every detail. His droll was not helping.

"We all should have been executed that day. Or at the very least, imprisoned," he said. "Instead… instead I figured out at that moment why he was with those idiots." He paused. "Once more Maric brokered a deal. This time, though, it wasn't to avoid bloodshed. In exchange for his lifelong service under Umbacano's name, Maric gave all of us to the Legion. We weren't his _company_. We were his _scapegoats_. Pawns."

"…And that's why you were in prison," I said, finally figuring it out.

"Yes. I killed him because he used me, and because I had finally understood his mindset. He was scum. He was selfish. And he was an idiot," Rasi'Mar bitterly said.

"So Vilverin…"

"Was the ruin where I was betrayed. Those bandits were Maric's. The statuette was what Umbacano had us look for."

"And Anvil…"

"Maric had all of our belongings fenced. We're going to Anvil to get them back," he explained. "Specifically, my scimitar."

"And then…?"

"I kill Umbacano."

Silence again. This time for many minutes.

"So we're going back to the Imperial City after we get your sword?" I asked, if only to break the tension.

"Yes."

"I see."

My companion stopped. He turned back to regard me. Oddly enough, his expression was one of sympathy.

"You don't have to follow anymore," he said. "Part of why I told you this was to scare you off. These are my sins to carry. You're an actual citizen. You shouldn't associate…"

"I'm following you so I can save my sister," I said immediately. A soft breeze carried through the foliage, warm enough to be considered dreamlike and comforting. I stared at him long and hard before continuing. "I don't need your pity, Rasi'Mar. I know what I'm doing."

His eyes lingered on me after I made my declaration. It wasn't the intimate setting I was hoping for, but perhaps that was to be saved for the details. He then turned around, but before he continued his gait I swung off the horse.

"Let me walk for a bit. You sit," I said.

He kept his gaze forward for a moment, but then silently obeyed. He climbed the stolen horse.

"Anvil isn't our immediate destination," he then said as I started leading. "I wanted… I want to stop by my home first."

I didn't let him see it, but I let a small smile play across my face.

"You haven't told me what city it was, yet."

He looked ahead.

"Kvatch."


	5. Cleansing

**Chapter 5: Cleansing**

* * *

Crimson skies. Bleeding air. Distant crumbling. The sight before me was of course something I would never forget, but there was an attribute relating to it that I'm unsure would leave the minds of anyone present. The obsidian arc that imposed its malevolent will upon everything cast in its destitute shadow hugged the ethereal blanket within its arms. Beyond it, a gateway to further mundaneness. Before it, the nightmares spawned from the womb within. Through it, a visage none would ever conceive for the remnants of their days. Could ever. Should ever. But one did.

"I'm going to close it."

Of course it was him.

"_I'm going to close it!"_

It was always him. The one who could choose. The one with the red hood. My companion.

Rasi'Mar ripped his blade forward with such a ferocity that for the first time in his presence, I experienced uneasiness. His eyes defied the skies. His bared teeth denied the air. His resolve drowned out the crumbling. And his gait…

It led him directly into the nightmares.

"I haven't read too much about it," I answered. "I spend most of my time with administrative obligations. Did I mention that this is my first trip to Cyrodiil?"

"It's an appealing town," Rasi'Mar said quietly. "At least… when I was there."

"Oh? Explain it to me; I'd love to have a visual."

"You're going to see it anyway," he said.

I glanced back at him with as warm a smile I could muster. "Of course. But I seem to have you in a loquacious mood. Might as well abuse it while it lasts."

Despite the endeavor to preclude it, a flash of a grin was noticeable on his expression. I turned forward again to let him have his sullenness.

"Hm. It had its own arena," he started to explain. "My father used to take me there every once and a while."

"Father-son bonding over theatrical bloodshed. Makes as much sense as anything else, I suppose," I huffed.

Rasi'Mar shook his head. "That wasn't the spectacle. At least for him," he continued. "Being the count, it was necessary that he showed up for at least the important matches, but he'd take me along to observe the betting side. We'd never bet ourselves, but we _would _watch the nobles who took the sport seriously. In a way, we would bet on the bettors. I suppose in hindsight he was letting me observe human nature, and the sociology behind it."

I glanced back at him to see his expression appearing to wax nostalgic. Changing the subject seemed prudent to keep the light tone.

"What about the city proper?" I asked.

Rasi'Mar snapped out of his haze and began to recount details about his home for a portion of our journey. From the way the river reflected the Colovian stonework, the lustrous flora that painted the downcast grey, the impressive architecture that held the population together. There was a shift in his behavior, one that slowly began to unravel that hard, brooding shell the Argonian seemed to cloak over himself much like the hood wrapped around his scaled head. For all the world he seemed to be genuinely at peace. Thoughts of the revenge he was so determined to dole out appeared to be foreign. Alien. Nonexistent.

And then we saw the smoke from the forest clearing.

Any pretense of jubilation was washed out by the inky plumes that rose from the scorched hilltop. At first I assumed it was a forest fire, but because of the proximity with which he continued to point out and the extreme alteration in tone I should have known right then and there.

"…Get on," he quickly demanded. I didn't hesitate.

In little time at all we galloped until we met the road, and from there, westward. Hard. I watched the sky as it gradually began to lose its cerulean hue, seemingly preferring that of a duller palate, one that let its viewer understand the torment it was about to endure. Or perhaps, we were about to endure.

A sharp turn to the right and up the hill caused us to pass by a fleeing elf. If he had something to say I would never know. Rasi'Mar didn't seem to care. Nor did he seem to care that there was a – small – gathering of despondent, tattered people that didn't even spare us a passing glance.

"Rasi'Mar…!" I failingly called out to him. He didn't respond. The encampment was of no concern to him. I knew then with absolute assuredness that he had a single goal in mind – the gates of Kvatch.

The coiling path did little to ease the tension thick in the atmosphere threatening to choke my own perceived sense of comfort. It was then I noticed that the exhibition of greys accompanied the slow fall of the sky's tears fed into the bleeding air. Ahead, a barricade of armored men, brandishing weapons of all kinds. Every one of them disallowed their undivided attention from straying off the sight that eluded me for a mere few seconds. And then we reached the peak of the hill.

To the left, the infernal doorway stood at attention. The horse came to a stop, but not before my companion had already flung himself off, leaving me with empty reigns. I grabbed them, but only for a moment so that I could descend as well.

"What the…" a voice angrily called. "You two shouldn't be here! Get back to the encampment!"

My eyes never left the portal. Was it a portal? It seemed that way. But I wasn't able to discern it by the static moment. Regardless, my lack of attention for the company surrounding us led to a firm hand latching onto the straps of my armor.

"Did you hear me?! Get out of here now! You're going to be killed!" the man screamed at my face.

"Please, we…" I started.

"Captain!" another man yelled.

Rasi'Mar, who had forced his way past several of the warriors, was equally admonished by the nonverbal change in company. We all watched as the fiery gateway spun and spat, wretched and coiled; and came forth the beings I never wished to witness in the entirety of my life.

Three sprinted toward all of us, the tan-skinned demonic humanoids. Their ears elongated, their jaws unhinged. But most disturbingly, their screeches clawed at my eardrums as their talons would my flesh.

"Damn it! Here they come again!" the captain commanded.

But my companion, perhaps blinded in rage and fear at what was metamorphosing just a few yards before him, refused to heed the admonishments and raised his dominant hand forward. It was a mystery what he was planning to accomplish – my only guess at this point was that he was so broken by these events that he plotted to halt them by gesture alone – but in the following seconds it became clear. The only clear thing to happen since we rode so hard out of the forest.

Contrasting the reddened colors of the atmosphere the flash of lightning spewed from the tips of his fingers and splayed into the ground. As if the original was but a mother, it gave birth to three more flashes, and the bolts of elemental magicks sprung from where their parent crashed and slammed unabashedly into the three creatures charging all of us, providing such force that they flung back into the ground behind them. They lay now permanently, the show my companion gave granting them their earned death.

And that was when he made his declaration.

"I'm going to close it."

With a voice that caused the portal to tremble.

"_I'm going to close it!"_

A voice that rivaled the thundering heavens.

"Your friend's a spellsword, huh?" a soldier asked.

"Doesn't matter. Reform ranks, he's dead anyway," the captain announced. "We gave him a fair warning."

I of course demanded his attention.

"What are you talking about?" I inquired. "Why is he dead? What is that thing?"

The captain glared at me before releasing my straps.

"We don't know. And this isn't a place for a citizen! You should be heading back to encampment, now!"

Before I could respond with the predictable defiance, a different voice preceded it. The owner caught the corner of my eye.

"This is the broken covenant. The Prince has won. The Gods have forsaken us."

"By the Nine, is this a tourist event?! You three, get these two out of here!"

Three soldiers quickly moved to grab hold of both of us. The man in question was older, balding, and wore a grey robe. I was quick to assume his – perhaps now deprecated – pious position.

"My friends…! The holy ground, they are all dead! The Gods have forsaken us! The Enemy has won!" he yelled, his face showing nothing but anguish. "This day belongs to the Prince!"

Possibly because of my gender only one of the soldiers was tasked with removing me. I was quick to show him that I am easily forgetful of such facts.

"What is he talking about?" I asked, pushing the man aside. He didn't give a second attempt; I surmised he couldn't be bothered.

"What do you think…?" he asked with bitterness. I noticed the captain sighing.

"We don't know what happened. Last night a gateway – much larger than the one we're looking at now – appeared from nowhere and… monsters…"

Another soldier stepped forward.

"Daedra," he said.

A word that held many detractions of the meaning it twisted. I had of course educated myself in the subject many years ago. Demonic beings that inhabited a different plane of existence from ours, they belonged to the Princes that ruled over their prospective spheres. I've read accounts of their nature and viewed drawings as to their likeness, but never would have thought I'd be witness to their horridness in any chapter of my life.

"You're saying… that that thing is a portal to Oblivion?" I asked, stepping back. Maybe I should have listened to them in the first place.

"A giant, metal, fire-breathing son of a bitch came from the big one I mentioned and…" the captain continued. "It just… killed everyone. Destroyed everything… we didn't have time… the chapel…"

"Captain Matius!"

"Oh hell… here they come again!"

Once more the gateway sent forth its legion of monstrosities. This time, however, the number was twice more than prior. Perhaps the fates decided we needed a challenge. The soldiers rushed ahead to meet their adversary head on. Out of reflex my hand went to the mace at my hip, but hesitation still crept into my blood.

"Lady!" Matius suddenly yelled. My eyes latched onto his. "I'm not going to warn you again. Return to the encampment or stay here and die! Either way, don't impede us from protecting what few people we can!"

And so he charged ahead to join his soldiers. I stood still. In that moment I realized I had a conversation with a group of people I had never met before, and felt not an ounce of concern for the fact that my companion had thrown himself into what by all counts could have been a pit of death and fire. A thought to be analyzed later, however, as one of the creatures bypassed the defensive line; meaning it was heading straight for me.

I did not flinch, nor falter in what I had learned to do. My feet set themselves, my hands held the handle of my weapon, and my arms lifted it from its perch. Moments before the monster was able to viscerally tear my esophagus out into the cold world, the spike from my mace smashed into its cheek, ripping straight through and felling it into the ground beside me. Its unearthly blood made a mess of my plating.

"Seems the girl can fight," one of the soldiers said as they finished with their opponents.

"Hmf," Matius huffed. They made their way back to the barricade. "What's your name, citizen?"

"Secura."

"Well, Secura, you've just been enlisted into what's left of the Kvatch guard," he pronounced. "You didn't want to leave, so now you're going to help us."

I frowned, but it was fair enough. "Fine. What are we doing?"

"What does it look like? We're keeping these damned things from overrunning the encampment," he answered.

I blinked several times.

"To what end?" I asked. "It doesn't seem like they're going to let up anytime s –"

"Until they're all dead or we close that portal!" he declared. "That's our job, and I'll be damned if we let another death happen on my watch."

"You plan on closing it?"

"I've already sent men in, but none have come out," he explained. "That's why your friend just committed suicide. Right now our priority is closing it so we can get in and save the rest of the citizens in the chapel."

"There are people still in there?" I asked, ignoring his comment about my companion. Once again the thought was shoved aside for reasons I didn't care to address yet.

"Yes," Matius answered. "When that thing started destroying the city, many tried to flee, but were all killed. The ones we saved are down below. But there were a few that didn't try to make it out, and hid within the chapel. If we could just get inside we could save those people… but this accursed gate…"

I turned my head and gazed upon the portal. Lightning and fire lashed from its incorporeal epicenter, refusing anyone to pass. One by one the soldiers turned as well, watching as it loomed over the burned earth. And then as if our combined hopelessness had somehow pled with the universe, a miracle occurred.

The earthen blackness below the obsidian frame reached up from the hells below and engulfed the entirety of the gateway into a maelstrom of fire and despair. The wrath of the explosion created a shockwave that threw us all to the ground beneath our feet, armor and iron clanging as a result. None of us, however, allowed such an occurrence prevent witnessing what they had tossed aside as a fact of this life. What I had then realized was an unerring sense of faith.

Standing in the ashes of the dead gateway, resolute and devoid of any fear, was a warrior bathed in the blood and soot of a world unknown to our comprehension. His leather armor was torn, his sword beaten. His hood was shredded and handing from his neck. Rasi'Mar held an expression I've never seen before.

Defiance.


	6. Liberty

He stood upon the toppled gateway. It was unlike anything one would see in any sort of public setting; the intense, battle-torn, seething warrior that wouldn't have passed for a lone hero or typical assassin. What drew my attention to his sudden reappearance was three-fold.

One, as I mentioned previously, was the torn hood resting upon his shoulders.

Two, his sword was blood-soaked, albeit with the blood of monsters.

And three… we were all watching as he emerged victoriously from what seemed like an impossible situation.

The soft rumbling that came from the strikes above denoted a change in the surrounding atmosphere. The blooded air slowly retreated into its less saturated cousin, returning to a sense of normality. A gentle drizzle caressed our dust and sweat coated skins. And as this transition occurred, the orange Argonian made his way to us.

"Rasi'Mar…" I found myself whispering. At the time, I was unable to understand why I was so enthralled by his being. Nor was I able to comprehend the reason for the amount of faith I had instilled in him. However, I didn't question either count. Now was not the time.

"It's done," he said as he stopped in front of all of us.

"By the Nine…" Matius stated with awe. "I can't believe it… what about… my men… what happened to the soldiers I sent in there?"

I said nothing, letting the exchange take place.

"I'm sorry," Rasi'Mar answered, his expression bitter. "None of them made it."

"Damn it!" Matius cursed, slamming his fist against one of the spikes that made up a barricade. He shook his head. "I refuse to let their sacrifice be in vain," he muttered before turning back to Rasi'Mar and me. "Sir, you obviously have more combat experience than any of us combined. Our battle is not over yet… there are still people trapped in the city. We need to get in there and secure their rescue. Will you join us?"

I noticed Rasi'Mar's grip on his blade tighten.

"Without hesitation."

Matius then grinned, raised his blade, and turned his attention to the city gates.

"For Kvatch!" he yelled, the other soldiers following suit. Rasi'Mar then glanced at me, and then the mace in my hand. I smirked.

"Had to kill one," was the regard I gave to it. He turned as the soldiers charged ahead.

"Follow me for just a while longer," he requested.

I didn't need to give him a verbal response. We both ran forward, following the Kvatch guardsmen, into the opened city gate.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Liberty**

* * *

Without hesitation it was. All of the guardsmen were as fierce as one would expect them to be, but, probably to no one's surprise, it was my companion who charged ahead, pushing aside what little opposition had presented itself. The pale monstrosities that befell upon us I came to realize were inexperienced in the ways of even remotely defending themselves – Rasi'Mar simply pushed past them, leaving the delicacies for the yearning reclaimers in his wake. The bloody swath was quick to succeed.

As they were starving for their retribution, none were left for the mace I kept adhered in the clamp of my hands. With this in mind, it was undoubtedly comprehensive why I opted to see where my companion had decided his presence was necessitated. It didn't take long for all of us to see.

The cheap, iron blade Rasi'Mar had been using was thrust into what appeared to be the torso of a living inferno. Whips of flame made up its appendages, from the legs that kept it standing to the arms now attempting to grapple and sear its opponent. And at the top of the abomination was what I believed should have been burning a wick in a much cozier abode, the head that ordered these violent commands. Whether or not Rasi'Mar remembered that iron wasn't going to ultimately abolish such a creature appeared irrelevant in the machine that worked his mind; as the blade melted and disintegrated within the confines of the living flame, a scaly hand latched onto the candle-shaped head and caused an effect I wasn't expecting – the fire quickly faded and an audible, but quick, screech was heard from the dying creature. As it fell to the stonework, shriveling into a contortion appropriate for the being it was birthed from. I glanced to Rasi'Mar's hand. Before it faded just as quickly, a mist of clear frost was dispersing into the heated air.

"Alright then, we head into the chapel!" I suddenly heard Matius command. Turning my attention back to the others, I watched and subsequently followed their lead as the commander led the charge to the doors of the holy establishment. And then Rasi'Mar stepped in front. We all stopped. I just now noticed that I wasn't following my companion anymore. "What are you doing?" Matius's tone was a mix of irritation and reverence, both understandable given the current and previous circumstances. "What's wrong?"

He kept his hard gaze on us for a few moments before turning skyward, toward the tower. "Above. Scamps."

We then all looked upward and watched as the pale creatures from before – this time enumerated immensely – descended from their perch above. Like bats clinging to a cave wall they turned to us and screeched, as if attempting to lessen the resolve of the men in front of me. As it turned out, it somewhat worked; at least two of them took their two steps backward, most likely realizing the futility in battling an army of hellspawn, regardless of their ineptitude. I of course was more confounded by the fact that my companion had already known the name of our new predators, though in retrospect I shouldn't have been.

Before Matius and the others were able to react beyond those initial reactionary movements, the torn and ragged Argonian clenched his fist in preparation for an action we have all seen previous to entering the city proper. As the Scamps lunged from the crushed tower and cast their silhouettes in the lightning-ridden, tortured sky, the thunderous bellow from the one in front echoed throughout the stone ruins, incinerating the ones falling upon us. Once more we had witnessed what I have guessed to be Rasi'Mar's primary focus in the magical arts. The ash of the fallen collided with the sky's weeping.

He only allowed us a few seconds before speaking. "The chapel is yours," Rasi'Mar said.

As Matius motioned for his composed subordinates to enter the chapel, I turned to Argonian now without a hood.

"You left all of that out of your story," I said.

I didn't expect him to answer – or, worded more appropriately, I expected him to _not _answer – but the expectation had a part two, so to speak. In the days prior, his silence came from listening. This time he didn't give so much of that as the attention given to area surrounding the chapel itself. Because of the situation, I chalked this up as him being distracted rather than finally letting go of the unique front I was seeing, thus I belayed any judgment. Instead, I scanned with him. It appeared that the surroundings had ruins blocking every other way, thus forcing us to enter the chapel and hoping for an exit there, assuming this was all of course to press on. And it was a strong assumption.

Rasi'Mar and I entered the chapel last, the latter of which was expecting to help lead the survivors out of this forced nightmare and back to "safety", despite the encampment being not even half a mile away from the city gates. But then…

"What is…" Matius stuttered, standing as still as the air within. The other soldiers spread out a bit, but were just as confused as he was. As I was. I didn't turn to Rasi'Mar yet.

Inside was what I expected from a chapel: large, empty, stained glass, pews, altars. But it was the second identification that I was paradoxically not expecting. It was empty. Lifeless.

"There's no one here."

What I said spoke truth. We all began walking slowly into the main hall of the structure, finding nary a single article of proof that anyone had used this area as a safehouse. I kept expecting Matius or any of the other soldiers to yell out to anyone merely hiding, or breaking down out of anger and despair. It was at that moment I realized I was really expecting too much and a lot. Which is why I decided to forgo such seditious expectations when finally deciding to turn to see Rasi'Mar's reaction to all of this. But again, I had inadvertently expected _something_, and that _something _just so happened to be the idea that he would have a reaction at all – or that he would at least be looking. No, instead my companion had the door opposite to the one we entered opened, and the frame of it used as a spot to lean against. He was scanning the outside.

"This is impossible. I _know _there were people here. I _saw _them come in here before we were forced out!" Matius seethed. My attention was torn away after a few seconds.

"Do you think those bastards got in?" a soldier asked.

"I absolutely do not believe any of them would have captured random civilians, especially after such a massacre," the captain postulated. "And I don't see any remains or blood anywhere in the vicinity."

"They must have escaped then?" I asked the obvious. Matius and another guard turned to me, almost as if they had forgotten I was tagging along.

"The way back was covered with daedra and the gate itself. The way forward is a dead end with the castle gate down. I don't want…"

"No. It isn't," Rasi'Mar finally said, his voice somehow both soft and booming at the same time. We all glanced to him. "Gate's raised."

"What?!" Matius exclaimed as he rushed to the Argonian's position. I watched in silence. "I'll be damned…" He quickly turned to us. "Merandil –" one of the taller soldiers quickly made his way to his captain as he gave his order – "you will accompany our friend here and see if any survivors made it to the keep. We'll join with you after we've given the chapel more than just a once-over."

"Understood. Do you think we'll be able to handle any opposition?" Merandil asked.

"I doubt any of those things made it this far in, but I'd be on guard anyway. Besides…" Matius started, glancing to Rasi'Mar who was just staring, supposedly, at the keep. "I think you two can handle it. Now get going!"

Rasi'Mar immediately bolted out of the chapel with Merandil in tow. Matius came back to the remaining two soldiers and me.

"Jesan, stay here with her. Girl!"

"Woman," I quickly corrected.

"What?"

"Er, nothing."

"Stay here with Jesan and see if you can find any sort of clue as to our survivors' location. We'll go to the undercroft, see if they've merely just hidden down there," Matius instructed.

As I didn't argue, he and the unnamed soldier rushed to the stairway near the doors. Jesan gave me a glance for a few seconds before moving his attention elsewhere. Conscripted into finding clues that were obviously not going to be here given the answer was most likely in the keep, I merely looked about lazily and waited for the captain to finish his search.

Walking around one might be able to hear their footsteps. I of course heard mine. I was wearing boots, after all, the kind of footwear one would expect when walking the country side of a relatively peaceful landscape. Although as I thought about this distinction, I realized perhaps boots were better for terrain such as that found in Morrowind, or on my island home of Solstheim, given the snow… in any case, why was I thinking about the sounds of footsteps? Because there is usually a consistency that comes with them. In this instant, there wasn't. The patter of boot meeting stone was interrupted by the absence of sound. And this is what made me look down.

Beneath my boot was a tattered, stained handkerchief, appearing to have seen many years since its initial conception. As it was the first piece of evidence in favor of human, elven, or bestial life I opted to crouch down and inspect it. The side I was looking at held no secrets for me to immediately decipher – that area could be left to others in that particular field – so I gently picked it up and turned it over. Now I was interested.

On the back was a pattern. An odd pattern, one that could have passed for a child's drawing if it wasn't for the intrinsic symmetry that made up the icon. If I had to make any sort of educated guess, to me, it appeared as a red arrowhead, albeit assorted with an amalgamation of angular shapes. As I stared at such an odd pattern, I came to realize I wasn't sure why it was so captivating. I had never seen it before, and such a fact alone should have startled me given the amount of symbols and icons I have been presented with in the days of my career. But I haven't. And it was calming.

"Nothing?" I heard a male's voice say. I grabbed the cloth and stood up, turning to witness Matius and the other soldier ascending from the stairs at a quickened pace. It was the soldier in the room with me that asked the question.

"Nothing. I suspect Merandil and the Argonian have already found them. I just wanted to make sure," Matius stated. "Both of you, let's go."

"Captain, what about…" one of the soldiers began to ask.

"I know. After we secure the civilians, finding the count is our absolute topmost priority."

* * *

Despite the obvious need to keep our weapons drawn, the city was quiet, and the courtyard even moreso. The rain had slowed somewhat, as if to match the stillness of the scenery. There were no corpses in sight, either from here or… over there, but I knew that didn't make it easier for anyone currently making their way to the castle doors. They were open. Another sign that didn't help the uneasiness.

Each of our expectations were rampant, I assumed, or perhaps it was just mine. The great hall was somehow surprisingly and unsurprisingly empty, creating a greater mystery as to what in the world actually happened with these survivors. Could they have been actually taken by the daedra for some reason? Slaves? Perhaps they are intelligent enough to take prisoners. None of it made sense though, as I couldn't understand why this city of all of them were attacked in the first place.

"They must be further in," Matius said, still staring ahead. "It wouldn't be smart to hold out by the entrance."

"Maybe the daedra penetrated their barricades, given that the door was open," Merandil suggested.

"There were none," I said with a slight smile. "Barricades, I mean. Look again – nothing was keeping that door closed."

"Enough," Matius said. "We shouldn't theorize until we've explored every inch of this castle. And don't forget the count."

We pressed on, passing the broken throne – it didn't look like it was intentionally destroyed, that probably would have been too obvious a metaphor – into the castle chambers. Empty save for ruined furniture, indicating that it was obviously razed. The implication meant that daedra were here, but left, possibly to follow their brethren once the goal of the attack was met. What was the goal itself? Again, I hadn't a clue.

It was then that we arrived at our quarry. Two bodies.

"Damn it."

The one of import at the moment was that of Merandil, laying with a scorch mark across his chest, seared deep within his ribcage. It would have seemed that he died instantly. Beside him, with an arm torn off, was a black cloaked… thing. Its face appeared contorted and burnt, as if acid had been poured continuously onto its face. Its hair – assuming it was to be observed as hair – was of a material that resembled fingernails rather than what we would have expected.

"That's it," one of the soldiers said. I glanced to him. "That's what attacked our city. They left this one behind."

The interloper in question did have the appearance of at least some sort of intelligence, which would make sense, given that the supposedly mindless beasts we fought outside of the chapel were, well, mindless. Supposedly.

With this distraction none of us had noticed that the door behind the two deceased was open, allowing us a clear view of what stood inside. At least at first. Matius, his mind moving as quickly as he could muster, jerked upward began to move inside.

"Argonian!" he yelled.

Instantly I turned to the interior of the room, any thought of the dead man and the daedra dissipating as my own wonder of the situation fell onto my companion, the one seemingly with the answers and composure I'd need after such an event. But as we moved inside, we all came to see that answers would have to wait.

"No… no no no!" Matius yelled. "Damn it!"

He ran to the bedside. Face down on the soaked bedsheets was the body of a stabbed man; greyed hair, wrinkled hands. Regal clothing. My assumption was clear. It was the count.

"We were too late…" Matius sighed. "…Those bastards…" We all stood in silence for an unknown amount of minutes, with Matius kneeling, possibly chastising himself for his perceived failure. He was the first of us to move. Slowly, and gently, he grasped the count's hand, held it for a few moments, and then slipped off the man's ring. "I suppose… we'll keep this until a new one is coronated…" He placed the ring in his pocket and stood up. "We'll have to keep the body here for now. There still might be more of them out there and I'd rather not die trying to protect his corpse. We also need to make sure the encampment is safe."

As the other soldiers nodded in affirmation and started to walk out, with sullen eyes the captain turned to us, remembering we were not soldiers. His stern expression fell.

"I'm sorry you both had to be a part of this. Thank you, though, for your help. We… we owe you more than I'm able to give right now…"

"Don't…" I started before gripping my chin in thought, "don't worry about us right now. We just need some time alone."

Matius, still sullen, tilted his head, unsure of what to make of the request. Whether he accepted out of misunderstood pity or because his thoughts were much too scrambled to register our motivations, he merely nodded. "I'd suggest leaving before any more of them return. We'll be at the encampment."

He then left. I turned away from him and back to Rasi'Mar, quickly remember that he was in fact in the room and that he had gotten here before any of us – as well as everything he had told me prior to coming here. I went to place a hand on his shoulder for some form of comfort… and then stopped.

He was standing still, his arms limped. At the edge of the bed, the orange Argonian stared in utter silence at the body before him. On his face was plastered an expression I wasn't able to ready with accuracy. There were no tears. There was no anguish. There wasn't anything. It was just a face. And then I realized something.

"…Rasi'Mar?" I asked quietly.

He didn't hear me.

"Hey, Rasi'Mar? Are you…" I began to ask the stupid question.

He _couldn't _hear me.

I then placed that hand on his shoulder. No movement. No response.

He didn't hear the entire exchange.

His eyes gave no life when I attempted to look into them.

He wasn't even aware we were in the room. That I was in the room.

It was then that I noticed he was holding something. Gripping something. I assumed it was his sword… until I remembered that he had lost it in the fight with the living fire. I became quiet as I stepped back slightly.

Hanging by what I assumed was a few strands of skin and blood vessels was a detached arm. I slowly turned back to the cloaked daedra. Armless. And then back to Rasi'Mar. The arm itself had been split in half, simply by virtue of how tight his grip was. Then I jumped.

"Fun while it lasted, Dad," Rasi'Mar suddenly spoke, in a tone I had never heard before. He blinked. His eyes somehow appeared to return to life. And he looked at me. "We should go now. We helped."

He dropped the arm with a thud and briskly walked out. He didn't wait for me. What more was I to do?

I followed.


	7. Woe

**Chapter 7: Woe**

* * *

"A room for two, please," I requested.

"We only have rooms for one," the innkeeper insisted.

"Oh… then two rooms for one, please."

"We only have one room available."

"Wait… then why did you say you had rooms available?" I inquired.

"I didn't. I just said I only have one room available. It's 30 gold," the gentleman stated.

I sighed in exasperation. Heavier footsteps than mine were heard behind me.

"It's fine," the ragged, serpentine voice said. "Go ahead and take it. I'll stay down here."

I turned around to witness my companion. While I haven't been around Argonians long enough to be able to claim any medical authority on their physicality, it was mostly obvious to me that his appearance indicated weariness and overall exhaustion. What startled me more, however, was that this was the first thing he had said since Kvatch. I shook my head.

"No… no," I said softly. "You take the bed. I was planning on getting some reading done anyway – work. Work related reading."

My companion hadn't made eye contact with me during the admittedly short exchange, instead opting to glance from the floor to the wall, giving the slightest of shrugs, and dropping what I believe amounted to the required number of metallic coins before heading up the stairs. As the innkeeper began counting, I watched Rasi'Mar ascend with presumably a reasonably worried expression. Why was I worried after only knowing him for a few days? Unsure. Unique experiences aside, maybe it just came from empathy. I also wasn't sure if I should have been experiencing amused gratitude over his willingness to pay with what little he definitely had, or offense given that I thought it was obvious I was going to pay for the room we were going to use. I took neither and just went back to worry. I understood that one and it fit with the mood between the two of us anyway.

"Doesn't seem to cheery, does he?" the innkeeper said. I turned back to him and noticed he had finished counting. A few coins were set aside. "Or awake. Didn't even give me the right pay, he didn't."

I smiled. "It was a long walk."

He smirked before reaching underneath the bar.

"Seat by the window is the best, I think," he said, bringing himself up with a cushion in hand. "Let me know if you need anything else."

I graciously accepted the generous offer and seated myself by the viewing apparatus. While it wasn't much, the cushion was still better than hard wood. My thoughts, as I pulled a random book out of the small bag I had been carrying, returned to the Argonian most likely struggling to be able to really get any rest. I've come to the conclusion that chivalry wasn't in his nature, but fairness, to an extent, was. He offered the bed to me out of the knowledge of his own ability to do without it, and when I countered the notion he didn't argue – proving that, of course, he would much rather take the bed, as it was more comfortable than a chair. Gender differences probably meant nothing to him. _Or_ I was just reading too much into it given the… circumstances that had arisen recently. Probably the latter.

My attention then returned to the unopened book. Its cover wasn't something I recognized. Then I realized it wasn't the actual cover, but instead the enforcement of the fact that I had accidentally grabbed the handkerchief I had located within the chapel. A groan escaped from my mouth as I held my forehead.

"Damn it…" I whispered, chiding myself for not giving this to Matius as I had planned in the first place.

* * *

"Captain Matius…" I said.

The titular commander stopped himself from entering his tent and set his eyes on me. He didn't say anything, and I assumed that he was expecting me to continue what I had started.

"I'm… I know this isn't going to mean much, but I'm sorry that…"

"Rude of me as it is, you're right, apologizing to me won't do anything. The people here need it more," he sighed before straightening himself out. "Or, rather, they need a better guard captain, one who wouldn't fail them in every way."

I glanced behind me to see the townspeople, attempting to live as if it was the only option available. Perhaps it was. Obviously I have never been in a situation like this.

"Hm… don't take this the wrong way, but…" I started, "maybe failing was what needed to happen." I turned around to see Matius's confused expression, which was mixed in with a frustration that came with bad timing. I quickly attempted to finish the thought. "I mean… before today how many people would follow you to the ends of the world? If you had succeeded here today by finding the missing survivors or saving the count, would they see you as anything other than the stoic, immortal protector of the city?"

Matius said nothing, but I could still tell he wasn't following. I turned back to the others, seeing that my companion was merely waiting for me to finish, staring off into the distance. I didn't even bother to try and decipher what was occurring in his mentality at the moment.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, today, last night, everyone failed. And it's made them vulnerable. As it did you," I continued. "Now they are sure you are like them."

Matius then gave an empty laugh. "So by failing them they trust me more? Sort of backwards but I like it. Couldn't tell you why."

Once more I offered him a smile, warmer this time. "I think by failing them you've shown them who you are," I said. "Anyway." Reaching into my bag I grabbed for the handkerchief I had found – but instead my fingers bumped into a small, rectangular object, which gave me an idea. I pulled it out and showed it to him. "Ah, do you recognize this?"

Matius inspected it before handing it back. He didn't say anything, letting me continue.

"It's the seal of the East Empire Company. I'm pretty high up there. I'll make sure they help get you all back on your feet again." I didn't take the seal, pushing it back into his hands. "Keep it as assurance."

He didn't say anything for many seconds, but then gave a real smile. "Thank you for everything. We… really… wouldn't have been here if it weren't for you two." Matius's eyes then turned to my companion, who hadn't moved. "It isn't my place, but… if you can, keep an eye on him. He's a good person, just a little too young to be throwing his life away."

I nodded. "Don't worry. He wasn't. But I'll try to anyway."

Rasi'Mar turned slightly as I approached him.

* * *

The door shut. The reverberation, though quiet, was enough to pull me from my thoughts. I blinked a few times, seeing if the innkeeper had noticed, but soon realized he hadn't. I then glanced around to see the new guest – and then equally realized there was no one new in the tavern. Quickly I checked out the window to see if my companion had suddenly left, given the state of his mind… and found nothing. Did I just imagine the door closing? Probably. I hadn't slept in a long time, it happens.

Of course I didn't believe that. But instead of worrying about it I decided to focus on the odd handkerchief that I completely forgot to give to Matius. My brow furrowed as I looked at it, though, as the longer I studied it the more I came to understand that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief – it was merely a piece of cloth. Untorn, as the edges were not ripped. Uncut, as the sides were too perfectly straight and even for it to have been removed from a larger piece. A patch, perhaps?

The symbol was the clear mention of importance, however. Given that it was in Kvatch, I was able to see that the previously perceived arrowhead could be turned in such a way that while it still resembled that, it could also be seen as a fox or a wolf, much like the crest of Kvatch itself. Come to think of it, I didn't know whether the crest was a fox or a wolf. I guess it didn't matter. If it was either, I was able to have it linked to the city. If not, because I could very well be seeing it as the crest given the location and as such the power of suggestion has taken hold, then it could have been an arrowhead, and I could show it to archers or fletchers. I was positive that it held some relevance to the missing survivors. At the very least, it would give me something to do.

The door shut again. I immediately whipped my head away from the cloth to see the door, only this time still too slow to see any movement. Regardless, I was absolutely positive I was not merely hearing the sound in my head, but in reality. This required further investigation. Bagging the cloth, I quickly got up and made my way to the door.

It was then that I caught a glimpse of someone descending from the second floor. My heart skipped a beat since I realized it could have been another patron and I was just unaware of it, but as I turned to see who it was I discovered it was someone I already knew.

"Rasi'Mar? What are you doing up? Was that you at the door?" I asked with a rushed, panicked pace.

He didn't respond to that line of questioning. Instead, he waited until he was at the bottom of the stairway to speak at all.

"Take the bed. I need to stay up for a couple of hours," he said quietly.

"What? But, you need –"

"I will when we get to Anvil. Bigger inn," he answered. "Just reclaim enough strength to make the trip."

This time I chose not to argue. Not that he gave me the chance – he walked by me, grabbed my bag, and handed it to me. When I took it, he seated himself opposite to where I was sitting; if he was aware that there was a cushion there, he didn't show it. I sighed and headed upstairs.

* * *

Because I had slept longer than intended, we ended up staying the night. I had awoken to find Rasi'Mar staring intently out of the window, reminding me much of when we were at the Kvatch encampment. He seemed lost. He probably was lost.

"Too dangerous to walk the roads at night," was what he told me. "We'll wait until dawn."

So we did. And I had a full night's rest and more. It was the first since I had actually come to Cyrodiil. Upon returning to the hearth I found Rasi'Mar in the same spot, staring, and thinking. Our patronage ended moments after.

We arrived in Anvil late morning. The smell of the sea was thick, as was the sounds of the harbor outside the walls and those of a bustling seaside town within. As I had expected, though, we didn't stop for the inn first. Rasi'Mar silently wished to spend no time outside of inquiring for the supposed fence, both of us forgoing the obvious concept that said fence might have already either been gone or had sold the scimitar to an eager buyer. With this in mind, however, I had begun to wonder how long he had intended to stay looking for such a thing if he hadn't planned for the alternative.

Fortunately we received a tip from an old sailor that the crewmate who had replaced him was only on board because of a "shiny new prick". We took that as evidence, weak as it was, and headed for the harbor gate. As the old sailor was by the castle gate on the other side of town, however…

"_Hear me, oh people of Cyrodiil! Look well upon the Chapel of Dibella. Look at the faces of the dead. This is your future!"_

The resonating voice of a madman echoed throughout that leg of the town, enough so to grab my curious attention. Especially a potential doomsayer.

"_…__ampion! Is there no one who would stand for the Nine? Now Mara's children cry out from beyond the grave for vengeance! How many more must die at Umaril's hand?"_

However, while I stopped to listen, Rasi'Mar continued to walk. Apocalypse or not, I wasn't about to just let my companion undertake this journey himself, so I unfortunately had to forgo the potential odd story.

Sure enough, apparently, the old sailor was correct. Rasi'Mar had instantly recognized the blade held by one of the ship hands, and he swiftly went for the dagger – the design of which I did not recognize and the object of which I had no idea he was in possession of – at his side, but I was able to subvert this oddly out of character decision and draw the sailor's attention to us, and then to the fact that the ship – fortunately – was owned by the East Empire Company. In order to appropriate the scimitar I had pulled out the seal in my bag as proof of my position… only to bring out what was left of the gold I had with me, since I then remembered that I had given my seal to Matius.

The sailor gave the scimitar back.

* * *

"It's a beautiful sword," I said, despite having no knowledge of the craftsmanship of a weapon and whether or not the scimitar deserved the level of praise I had just offered it. I already knew this, and I assumed Rasi'Mar knew this as well, thus I wasn't surprised when he said nothing.

Following the reclamation of his sword, Rasi'Mar finally went to the inn and slept for many hours. In such a time I figured it was best to go to the standing office for the East Empire in order to retrieve another seal, the time of which it took to accomplish unfortunately meant the prophet I was eager to return to had finished for the morning and completely disappeared. Mysteriously. So instead I just returned to the pier, and by the time Rasi'Mar had awakened we both found ourselves watching the horizon during a brilliant sunset.

I opened my mouth for a second and then closed it, unsure whether or not I should have said what I ended up saying anyway.

"I don't know if this is too early, but, can I ask what you are thinking about? Maybe talking about it will help somewhat," I offered.

Rasi'Mar didn't say anything.

"Hmf. I know. It never helped me either," I chuckled.

This time he did give me a response – a glance. It was enough for me to realize that he merely wanted to listen. I smiled and returned to the orange hue of the sky.

"My uh, my sister lived in Cyrodiil, you know. Chorrol, specifically," I started. "Jociel. Odd name for a girl, right? I liked it though. I guess she did too since she never complained about it. But anyway. She liked sewing. Terrible at it, but liked it anyway. I've always inquired why she chose the mountain side, but rarely did she ever give me an answer outside of describing the air or the foliage. One day, though, after a couple drinks, she finally gave me an answer I was satisfied with – she had friends there. For the longest time I had no idea why she tried to keep that a secret from my father and me, until I realized that during her visits to Solstheim she kept it a secret from everyone as well. It was then I knew – she didn't want us to think she had abandoned us."

I paused to gauge my companion's reaction, but found that his gaze was still on me. Still listening. I smiled as I glanced down at the waves.

"Couldn't tell you how, but all of the doctors my family was able to afford all told me that the disease that killed her was beyond our current science in the field, and that it was somehow painless during the transition. Rather than taking up the challenge of reinventing my life to finding out what exactly the disease was, I decided to interpret it as fate just choosing to take her away from this world and put her in the next one. Strange, I suppose, but it was the most practical way I could have taken it."

This time he gave a more pronounced reaction.

"I thought you told me you wanted to save your sister," he stated. I stayed silent for a few seconds. The waves gently lapped against the boardwalk.

"Up until a few days ago I didn't understand how she could have thought having friends elsewhere would have alienated her from her own family," I continued. "I think I'm getting it now, though." I turned to him with a smile. "One of these days we should go to Solstheim. I think you'd like it there. Cold as it can get, but still. The people are… can be nice."

My companion gave a slow blink and returned to watching the horizon. I did the same.

"I don't…" he started almost quietly enough for me not to hear. "After I kill Umbacano… I don't know what to do anymore."

My smile dropped. That's right. I wondered if he had intended to return to…

"Well then, how about we get a house somewhere? I'll take Bruma or Cheydinhal, either one will remind me of home, sort of. And we can stay in Cyrodiil," I suddenly offered, believing that with his admission he was finally opening up. Of course, I realized after I said it that I was asking him to commit to something much larger than one should have after only a few days knowing each other. Waiting for the inevitable awkward silence or rejection that would follow, I cleared my throat and… waited anyway.

However, no rejection came. The silence was not in fact awkward, as it, somehow, felt like the same silence that he had given in every other situation. He was thinking. Considering.

"Let me kill him first," Rasi'Mar answered, standing himself up and offering a hand. "Then ask me again."

I then realized it was the second time I was taking his hand. I looked back at the horizon – the sky had turned red at this point.


	8. Nothing You Can Possess

**Chapter 8: Nothing You Can Possess**

* * *

If it hadn't been for his justifiably moody behavior I would have asked my companion if he felt uncomfortable without a hood. Every so often I would catch him in the act of stroking the spines protruding from his head. In my perspective it appeared that he was somewhat self-conscious of his bare head. I kept this observation to myself for now.

"Are you just planning on knocking?" I questioned with a raised brow as we stepped up to the extravagant manor. Rasi'Mar turned his head just enough to be able to see me in his peripheral, a gesture I've noticed he'd taken up as a habit.

"I have the statue. Go take a walk. I'll come find you," he said.

I found this directive to be ironic, given that for the past couple days we've done nothing but walk. I gathered that he was not going to be in a listening mood for a while, so for the majority of the trip from Anvil back to the Imperial City I barely said a word. Though from my own awkward bodily movements he must have been keenly aware of my need to bring up all of the inquiries I had garnered along the way, such as how he knew about the daedra, theories about the missing survivors, and the story behind the arrowhead cloth. He must have been, because as we passed Skingrad he spoke without provocation.

"When we get to the Imperial City I suggest going to the Market District and reading up on the various kinds of Daedra," he suddenly brought up. "It's how I knew. I suspect we'll be seeing more of them in the near future."

I so desperately wanted to ask why he mentioned his suspicion, and why he had it in the first place, but as I said, I had an inkling that he was not in the listening mood. So I kept quiet save for an affirmation. Perhaps he had forgotten this single-sided exchange, for in the suggestion he tossed out at me before disappearing behind the elegantly crafted threshold into higher living he made no mention of going to the Market District.

Regardless, that's what I had planned on doing.

"The City is shaped like a wheel," a guard explained after I had admitted to her that I was utterly lost. "We're in the Talos Plaza District. Picture the inner walls as spokes. This district is on the very western side of the City, and in the center is the Imperial Palace. Head north and you'll reach the Elven Gardens District, then the Market District."

"I see. Interestingly constructed city," I commented.

"Well, it was built by the Ayleids, apparently."

"Oh? I was at one of their cities a few days ago. How come this one is above ground?" I asked.

The guard shrugged. "Couldn't tell you."

I made a mental note to find something on the Ayleids as well when researching the Daedra.

"So… what happens if I head south?" I then asked. The guard turned her head that way and needlessly pointed.

"The Temple District and Arboretum. And finally on the eastern-most side where the Market District and Arboretum connect is the Arena."

"The Imperial City has an arena too?"

"'Too'? Ah, you're referring to Kvatch, hm? Yes, we have one as well. Thinking of betting?"

"No, just curious," I shrugged. "Anyway, thank you for the directions. I will be on my way."

The guard nodded before returning to her rounds. I decided to head south with the intention of seeing such a spectacle before hitting the books, as I've heard expressed.

The Temple District seemed like another housing area save for the titular, dome-shaped temple in the middle. Like most the architecture in the city, and everything built by the ancient elves, it was very drab and continuously reminded me of a bathtub. Loitering outside of the temple proper was a grey-robed Argonian, smiling a toothy grin at every passerby. He seemed amiable, which prompted me to believe he was some sort of priest. My suspicions were soon confirmed.

"Ah, a new face. Welcome to the Temple of the One, my lady," he greeted.

"I'm not _that _new, I've been here before. Sort of," I huffed, not mentioning that I've only been to the Waterfront, and briefly.

"Apologies then, my mistake. Would you like to stay for a prayer?"

"Unfortunately no, I am… needed elsewhere," I stated sheepishly, expertly avoiding the subject of my impiety. I glanced past him at the structure. "Why is it called the Temple of the One? I thought there were nine gods."

"Nine true gods, yes. This temple isn't specifically for their worship, however. It is here that the Emperor uses the Amulet of Kings to light the Dragonfires, thus allowing him or her to ascend to the throne," he explained.

"Light the Dragonfires? Ugh, I am so uneducated in this culture…" I sighed.

"Yes. It is what keeps Oblivion at bay, a tradition set down by generations of –"

"Wait. What did you just say?"

"…The Dragonfires, when lit, keep Oblivion at bay."

"But…" I paused. There was an obvious inconsistency given the events of merely a couple days ago. If Oblivion was supposedly "at bay"…

"Which is why we need all the prayers we can receive, my lady," he said, sensing my apprehension. "I'm merely a healer, but even I understand the danger we are all in. With no Emperor and no heir, surely the Empire will be meeting some of its darkest days."

The article at the Bloated Float. It covered the death of the Emperor. The timing of that and Rasi'Mar's escape from prison. And his earlier suspicion.

"Um… I'm sorry, I have to get going. If I have time I will definitely join you and… sorry!" I stammered as I quickly rushed away, heading eastward into the Arboretum.

Had I not had that chance conversation I would have appreciated the astounding beauty of the district I had wandered into. There were no housing structures, as it was purely meant for a place of peace and appreciation for nature. The marble stone-work in the statues and pillars mixed in with the greenery and rainbows of hues and colors made for an exquisite sight… just not a sight I paid attention to for more than five seconds.

I chided myself quietly for not knowing about the apparently obvious lore that came with living in the Imperial Province. Kvatch was destroyed because these "Dragonfires" were unlit, and thus some sort of barrier was… no longer present? It was odd. And the healer was right. Tamriel, and possibly all of Nirn, was definitely going to meet an unsavory time in its history. Perhaps this was all much more grandiose than we had imagined, or at the very least, of such massive implication that none of us common folk even bothered to place any thought into it. The single, most prevailing, subconscious detail that incessantly battered around in my mind, however, was the concept that my companion was somehow relevant to this entire puzzle… if not squarely in the center of it.

And in my musings I had neglected to pay the slightest attention to my own directional pathing, thus I slammed headlong into another pedestrian. As I landed squarely on my rumpus, I heard a rasp apology followed by silence. I looked up to see who my victim was, and then froze – I was staring straight into the eyes of my companion.

Or so the moment falsely accused him of being. As the stranger lifted me up, I gradually came to the understanding that the serpentine figure standing before me was not in fact Rasi'Mar, but another Argonian who strongly resembled him. Or perhaps it was the fact that this one as well wore a hood – only of a shade of blue.

"Been running into a lot of Argonians lately…" I muttered.

"I'm so sorry, miss… the anticipation of meeting a combatant disallowed me from observing my surroundings," he said hurriedly. "Are you harmed?"

"No, I'm… combatants?" I glanced around, noticing that we were in fact no longer in the Arboretum, and that I had somehow passed into the next district. This amusing thought was pushed aside, however, once I registered what exactly the Argonian just said to me. "'Disallowed'? Are you a grammatical scholar?"

"Er…" he stammered, as if performing some kind of social faux pas. "No, I… enjoy conversation, is all."

My face apparently beamed, because he gave me the oddest of looks.

"As do I, my garrulous friend, as do I," I said excitedly. "Would you like to partake in such conversation in the shade? I have some time on my hands, I believe."

The Argonian before me slowly broke into a warm smile before glancing down and having it dissipate. He blinked a few times before bending and grabbing something off the ground.

"I believe you dropped this during our encounter," he said, holding the object out – to which I immediately recognized it to be the arrowhead cloth.

"Oh! Uh, thank you. I hadn't realized I was… carrying… it…" I said, trying to remember when I took it out of the bag I was now returning it to.

"Is it an arrowhead?" I heard him asking. I glanced up at him inquisitively. "The pattern. It has the abstract appearance of an arrowhead."

"Oh, I… it doesn't look like a fox to you?" I asked.

He tilted his head. "I suppose… from a certain angle, it does… that or a wolf."

"That's exactly what I thought! Sort of. It's unimportant."

"Where did you find it?" he asked. I was about to immediately share that information had it not been for my quick suspicion.

"Who said it wasn't mine?" I asked with a smirk. He lowered his brow in slight confusion.

"Well, no one, I don't think. You had to have found it somewhere, or perhaps someone gave it to you. I was just expressing curiosity, is all. You mentioned wanting to converse, I figured we might as well start somewhere," he explained. I amusedly continued my line of questioning.

"That's if you assume I hadn't made it myself."

"You sewed a pattern you don't recognize?"

Then I frowned.

"Fair point, I suppo… no, no wait! What if I had sewn it, and I just wanted it to resemble a canine? Your observation of it being otherwise could have offended me."

"Speaking in hypotheticals inadvertently proves you didn't make it."

"_Damn it_!" I cursed. A few seconds later, though, I chuckled and shrugged in defeat. "Very well, I concede. Truth be told I found it…" I stopped, unsure if I should mention Kvatch in case of spreading panic. On the other hand, it had to get out sometime. I refrained from going into detail. "I found it at Kvatch. It's why I wondered if it was a fox or a wolf."

"Always thought it was a coyote," he said with a dismissive head shake. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Terrible, what happened there. I hope the Elder Council gets this sorted out."

"Wait… what's terrible?" I asked, uneasily surprised.

"Oh… sorry, I assumed you knew. Few days ago Kvatch was –"

"Destroyed. How did you know?" I quickly asked.

The Argonian half-smiled, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Well, you apparently got here with that knowledge, right? Word of stuff like that travels fast. The Courier reported the Emperor's death in less than a day."

"Huh… guess I never thought of it like that. Suppose you're right. I, um… uh…."

The cause of my verbal struggle came in the form of a distraction via a small troop of guardsmen hustling from their watchtower in the district towards the Imperial Palace. I then glanced around, noticing that the area was being vacated of all soldiers in a rushed pace.

"One second…" I told the blue-hooded Argonian. Approaching one of the guards, I spoke, "Excuse me, what's going on?"

"Step aside, citizen," he demanded, though patiently. "There's been reports of a murder in the Talos Plaza. Stay clear of the area."

I blinked several times as he rejoined with the rest of his squad. It of course did not take me long to realize what he was possibly referring to… or that it was odd he gave away that much detail to a "citizen". I quickly turned back to the Argonian.

"I'm sorry, we'll have to pick this back up another time. I have to be somewhere," I apologized.

"Oh, it's fine… go see what this is about," he said with a smile.

I returned the gesture, but as I expanded the gap between us I glanced back again only to find his expression lacking the warmth he previously exuded – and instead it was replaced with a chilling emptiness. I ignored it, however, as finding out if I was right in my assumption took precedence, however.

* * *

I was right.

* * *

"So it's done, then."

If I had previously thought the city looked drab with its overly consistent taste in marble, then I would have rescinded the insult in favor of using it to describe the cells I was standing amongst. I kept my gaze on my companion; he was sitting on a stool, staring at the wall opposite to it. From my perspective, I was seeing his profile. He said nothing.

"You told me when we first met you had escaped from prison," I said softly. "Now's your chance to show me how."

Once more there was no reaction. The dim lighting offered by the single candle just outside his cell gave no indication of what his expression was. I just expected it then to be the same as it always was – patient, outwardly apathetic, and inwardly sad.

"So, then…" I changed the subject, gripping the bars. "How did it feel this time?"

There was an audible swallow followed by many seconds of silence.

"He was dead."

The dark didn't permit me to see his lips move.

"I gathered, what with you being in here. But can you tell me what it felt like? You must have been paying attention this time."

He shook his head – or at least I thought he did. Again, it was far too dark within the hole to be able to see anything other than his physical figure.

"No. I didn't kill him."

A smirk spread across my lips. "Come on, Rasi'Mar. They're keeping you in here, not me. You're not my pet, I'm not going to disown –"

"I'm not declaring innocence," he said a little louder. "He was already dead."

My smirk slowly faded. I recalled when I had arrived at the scene, watching as the guards hauled him out of the house. His expression appeared to be one of shock. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it wouldn't have made any sense for him to just allow himself to get caught like that, especially since he knew exactly where Umbacano resided and how long he had to plan for…

"I'm going to get you out. Then we can talk," I reassured, letting the bars go and heading back up to the initial office without waiting for his response.

The instant light was enough to force me to shield my eyes, though not enough to keep my posture for long. I laid them on a round-looking woman sitting behind a desk much larger than she was probably used to.

"Here," I started, reaching into my bag. "The Argonian down there is now property of the East Empire Company. Transfer him to us and I won't have to go to your superiors with news of your insubordination." I then slammed the seal down on a sheet of paper. "This form is now worth more than a month's pay. Proof enough?"

The woman looked at me, then the page, then around to see if she had any support, then to me again. She didn't seem agitated or stubborn – just perplexed.

"The prisoner was already going to be released due to the lack of evidence connecting him to the crime," she said.

I stood there for a few seconds.

"Oh."

Fashionably I placed the seal back into my bag. "Well, let it be known that the East Empire was keenly aware of his innocence and that we opted to expiate him." I then quickly added, "And that we are doing everything we can to send relief to Kvatch."

With that I huffed and started to return to the cells.

"Why?" I suddenly heard the woman ask. "What's happened to Kvatch?"

* * *

"Such an event would only be known by the most high-level members of –"

"Some guy at the arena knew about it! I spoke to him! He knew. How could he have known but…"

Rasi'Mar gave me a confused look, one that both shallowly angered me but reassured me of the possibility that he was somehow healing. He was leaning over the wall on the side of bridge separating the prison from the City itself. For all intents and purposes, he appeared peaceful.

"I don't know. There've been a lot of inconsistencies lately. The missing survivors, a random Argonian knowing about Kvatch, Umbacano's death… something strange is going on, Rasi'Mar, and I aim to –"

"Cheydinhal."

The word stopped me as I was raising my fist in defiant proclamation of my intentions. I stayed still for a few seconds before lowering it and turning to him.

"What?" I asked.

"I'll take you up on your offer," he said with a surprising calm. It took me a moment to remember what he was referring to. "Cheydinhal."

My smirk returned.

"I'd say that's a good choice," I affirmed. I then copied his gesture watched the water passing from underneath us. "Any particular reason why?"

"Not a fan of the cold," he said.

"Ah." I scrunched my nose. "Maybe you won't like Solstheim after all."

"Before we do that, however, there is one more thing I have to take care of."

My brow curved initially, but it ended with the knowledge that he was simply a busybody. "Someone else to murder?"

"No. Business. Getting a job."

"Ah…" I shrugged. "So what's our destination this time?"

"South. Green Road," he said. "The Inn of Ill Omen."


	9. Welcome to the Family

**Chapter 9: Welcome to the Family**

* * *

"Terrible name for an inn," I opinionated.

As we both stared up at the ragged shack of a tavern, our attention was brought to the hanging sign that exhibited a crudely painted raven sitting atop the identification given to such an establishment, "The Inn of Ill Omen." In that moment the burning question of what exactly Rasi'Mar had planned to do here ceased in place of why the name existed in the first place, but quickly subsided as in my peripheral my companion lowered his head to face forward and subsequently walk inside. My initial question returned, but found its home in the recesses of my mind. Sure enough, if I was patient, the mystery would uncover itself.

The interior wasn't as terrible as its name suggested. In fact, it was as typical as the other inns we had been to, at least outside of a walled city. This inn in particular had no home but for the road itself, making me question how it could possibly function on the inconsistency of weary travelers. Unbothered by such a prospect, though, Rasi'Mar headed straight for the bar. Behind stood a rather lofty Nord man.

"Well I'll be, a customer!" he exclaimed, setting down the mug he was prosaically wiping with a dirty rag. My companion didn't allow him to finish his line of excitement.

"I'm looking for a man named Rufio," he said quietly, although for what reason I was unaware, given that the only other person in the room was a woman sitting in the corner, watching us strangers come in and make odd demands. Still, Rasi'Mar usually had a reason for his actions, so I ceased questioning. Although this _was _the first time I was hearing of his intentions, and the name "Rufio" was unfamiliar to me. Not once had he mentioned it on our expedition.

"Rufio, eh?" the innkeeper asked. "Mm, he's an old codger. He stays below the hatch over there –" he pointed to a floor hatch next to the door, "in what I like to call the Private Quarters. You can see him if you like, but –"

"Wait here," Rasi'Mar interrupted to command me. Before either the innkeeper or I could respond, he had already turned and began making his way to said hatch. The Nord man, though, was quick to react.

"Ah… what do you plan on doing with him?" he asked. Unspoken, my curiosity was illustrated by this man's inquiry. Rasi'Mar turned, silently, to face us. "I mean… he isn't exactly the type to take in visitors. Wouldn't want him to get scared and stab you!"

I stifled a chortle at this thought, but only for a moment. In a moment of honesty I found myself wondering which would be truer – what the innkeeper suggested or the opposite.

For a minute Rasi'Mar hung in front of the trapdoor, seemingly formulating a response that would belay any suspicion. I watched him with interest. A glance was given to me before he quietly made his way back to the bar, unstrapped the sword at his waist, and placed it upon the wood.

"I have business with him," he affirmed. "It shouldn't take long."

We then watched as he promptly descended below the hatch.

* * *

Cheydinhal – a city belonging to those who in turn do not truly belong. The acknowledgement of such holds no place in the dichotomy set forth by its inhabitants, for like all those in the Imperial Province, luxury and delusion are married more closely than the sun and the day. Fitting, I suppose, since I had once heard – from somewhere, from someone – that it was sometimes known as the City of the Rising Sun. Or so I had imagined.

The architecture of this bed of misfits didn't match the predisposition of those who occupied it. Close to the aliens of fungi and chitin and distant from the pariah dwelling lands to the west, the houses and markets appeared to be made from the trees that made up a good portion of the foothills of the Valus Mountains. The castles and walls, typical of this mixed culture, appeared to have been comprised once again of the stone and mortar making up all walled settlements, aside from the Ayleidic center of the Province of course.

Why was architecture featured so prominently in my mind? Perhaps because, as I stood in one of the very edifices I had been describing, I was attempting to distract myself from the itching feeling that I was getting nowhere with my relationship with my companion. There was no end goal, so to speak, but I felt that my sister didn't feel such utter despair at the thought of being ostracized simply because she just so happened to be in the same room as those she surrounded herself with. And that's what it felt like – I was merely in the same room as him. Did he feel the same way? One of the very questions I felt I wasn't supposed to be asking, and instead should have already known the answer. I yearned to understand. Or perhaps I was reading too deeply into the situation. After all, we hadn't known each other for very long. But that was precisely the kind of reasoning that made me so uneasy; at what point would that no longer hold?

"So who is Rufio, anyway?" I asked as we exited the inn. Rasi'Mar didn't turn to face me. "You've never mentioned him before. In your story or after."

He stayed silent for a few moments, likely mulling over his response.

"Business," he answered.

I smirked. "Really? I never took you for the repetitious type. Are you hiding something?"

"Are you asking me to be more specific?" he inquired abruptly, this time turning to meet my amused gaze.

"Ah… I suppose I am."

His amber eyes shifted to the inn and then to the road we were making our way to. "He was someone I needed to speak with about getting into the courier business."

"Courier? Wait, if that's all you wanted, _I _could have gotten you a job. Hello! Do you even know what it is I do?" I asked with a sarcastically dumbfounded tone.

"It's not that," my companion said. "Smaller. That's all I know. I'll let you know more when I know more."

The memory of this conversation cycled through the entire time we made our way to the City of Rising Misfits. Even as I stood in the cozy but empty house, everything but this thought seemed to evade my mental grasp. Had I made a mistake? Was he simply incapable of traveling with others? Was I becoming obsessed with an intangible goal? All possibilities. And all questions that conjured themselves while my eyes settled on the patch of cloth that lay bare upon the etched table, its polygonal symbol revealing nothing to me.

* * *

"Ah, a member of the East Empire Company. Good to see you taking an interest in our humble community of land-dwellers."

"You make it sound as if it's a club."

"Oh, I wouldn't know anything about that, miss."

The castle attendant signed the document I had handed him, following the imprint of the seal I had in my possession. He then glanced up to me and smiled.

"Appreciate your business. I'll be sure to let your superiors know they've claimed some property," he responded as I myself began to sign my own name. "Be sure to visit some of the shops for furnishings. You know where the house is, right? Just in front of the Mages Guild."

"I know where it is, I sought it out," I stated irritably, mostly in response to the dunmer's oddly condescending tone. It was likely he was able to tell that I had Imperial blood in me.

As I stood up, I gave him one last comment.

"Question… is there some sort of courier service here in town?" I asked.

He chuckled. Apparently I was funny.

"You're mistaken, miss. The ranch outside _sells _black horses. What you're thinking of is in the Imperial City. Hope you didn't just buy a house based on that information."

* * *

Of course it was inquisition like this that continuously led to false worrying and incessant paranoia. What was it that I was afraid of? Not my companion, of course; I was, after all, traveling with a murderer, no matter what color one painted it. No, my belief was that I had made the wrong choice. My prodding since the beginning was the ultimate test I could propose, to ensure my place within Jociel's standards, and so I could inevitably walk in her shoes.

"Bah. Enough of this," I chided myself. I knew I was going to gain no answers staring at what was likely someone's lost handkerchief. So I stepped outside –

\- And found myself staring directly at my companion.

"…Rasi'Mar? How did you know where I was? I thought we were meeting at the chapel."

If it wasn't for his brightly orange-tinted scales, I would have thought I was about to get mugged. Or worse. My companion was dressed from head to toe in black – a tight leather of sorts – topped with a welcomed or unwelcomed (depending on perspective) return of a hood. Below that was a short cloak that covered his shoulders, top half of his back, and chest. He gazed at me with his usual interested eyes.

"I saw you come here," he responded. He glanced behind me. "Is this it?"

I turned my head to see what he was staring at, starting from the Mages Guild headquarters a ways away behind him and to the house behind me. I nodded.

"Yep. Empty, but cozy. It has a fireplace in case you get cold." I turned back to him. "You know, black doesn't really suit you."

"Company uniform," he stated, making his way inside. I followed.

* * *

"Always knew that one was trouble."

I blinked. "What? Who?"

"Rufio. It's like he's been hiding from something. Or someone," the innkeeper said. "I don't mean to insult your friend, but he's got some scary eyes. Or maybe he's just reserving it for the old man."

A small frown spread across my face. I hadn't considered his expression frightening at all, but then again, I probably wasn't looking.

"He's… been through a lot recently," I defended.

"Yeah. Haven't we all."

* * *

Rasi'Mar sat down and set his gaze on the cloth in front of him. I watched from the doorway. In truth, I was completely aware of how little I knew about what he was doing, and I suppose I was choosing to be as ignorant as possible. It was also possible I was tailoring my experience with him to match what I thought was the correct course of action to take in a scenario like this.

"This was found among the survivors, right?" Rasi'Mar asked, placing his hand on the pattern. His question shook me out of my musings.

"Uh… yes," I said.

In the back of my mind, I needed to somehow get him to be straighter with me. I couldn't just ask in a straight-forward manner; that is, after all, something he was an expert at avoiding. So I chose a different tactic.

"So as I was wandering around town, trying to find a suitable location for our extended stay, I heard many a rumor floating around the streets. This in turn reminded me of the local gossip I had back home, among all of my… friends. So to speak. Anyway, the point is it reminded me of a question I've been wanting to ask you…" I started haphazardly, taking my seat across from him. He looked up from the table and gave me an earnest gaze, one that I recognized as being hungry for more of my rambling.

_Not the time to be caught off guard, Secura…_ I thought, the irony thick. I cleared my throat.

"What do you think of sex?"

I sat back and let the question do the work for me. Never before had I spoken with anyone – a man in particular – who didn't somehow stumble on the inquiry and fumble around for some kind of solution to the sudden dilemma. It was here I would inch my way into shaking my doubt by shaking his supposed front. Or discover that the front was a delusion on my part.

But nothing like that happened. Perhaps unwittingly of me, I watched as my companion stared at me with a contemplative gaze before turning it elsewhere, seriously considering what I had just posed. I could help the curious smile break across my lips.

"It's cruel," he finally answered.

A handful of seconds passed between us.

"…What?"

"It's a natural requirement that is based entirely on the concept that we need to survive as a species," he elaborated. "It is a primal need that all of us have, yet it requires at least a party of two in order for there to be any sort of satisfaction. This leads to a perspective that culminates in many connotations, typically seen as negative, because such traits are seen as succumbing to 'temptation', among other stigmas. There are those who choose to embrace this and form a defensive, ostracizing themselves from the very people that equally require it, or those who choose to use it as a concept to break away from, achieving their own version of verbal or mental superiority. And those with no thoughts to gravitate towards it or repel against it live peacefully, if without identification. The famous are idolized and hated by those in any of the above groups. The simple act of reproduction has become god-like, in a sense. And because we ourselves are products – or byproducts, depending on who you ask – of the gods themselves, it's cruel and needless of them to allow a mutual necessity to run so rampant without supervision." Rasi'Mar turned back to the cloth as his eyes seemingly glazed over. "Violence can exist without demonstrable consequence aside from cause and event, but its opposite exists in a state of perpetual worship and fear. The fact that every single one of us needs it to survive, at least at a base level, is cruel."

More seconds passed between us.

"I, uh…" came the response I attempted to put together.

"Anyway, the courier business I'm in runs messengers between groups of individuals that would rather not be public," he said. "It's shady, but, it's likely the only skillset I have." He then started to stand up. "It's also why I can't stay long. I have a contact I have to meet back in the Imperial City. Would you like to come?"

Without wanting to, I instinctively latched onto his hand to prevent his full ascension. He stopped and stared.

"Ah… sorry. Yes. I will come. Just… can you do me an odd favor?" I asked.

He waited.

"This whole time…" I started, not really knowing how to justify the request. "Can you… say my name?"

Rasi'Mar tilted his head. I didn't pay attention to whether it was out of confusion or curiosity.

"Secura."

There was no hesitance as it rolled off his reptilian tongue. He then stood up.

"We should probably purchase a horse," he said.

I sat in thought. One pervaded it all. Maybe it wasn't Rasi'Mar who I needed to fit into my own perspective of what I thought was right.

Maybe it was I who needed to break out of the mold.


	10. A Watery Grave

**Chapter 10: A Watery Grave**

* * *

The Imperial City, unwavering and immune to vicissitude, dominated the serene landscape before us. Presently in possession of the fine black steeds of Cheydinhal's Waterside Stables, my companion and I were able to traverse the relatively calm eastern roads to this central hub. Our destination? Something I had asked with equal fervor.

"I'm meeting with the captain of a ship at the Waterfront," was all he said at first as we trotted along. Only many minutes later did he append this seemingly innocuous statement with a non-committal remark - "You might have seen the ship after we had first met."

I tore my gaze from the marble arrangement and rested it on his features. I found myself once again augmenting a disclaimer to my own thoughts in the form of "while we haven't known each other for very long" as his steady, contemplative expression gripped my attention. In my mind's eye, Rasi'Mar appeared to be mentally weighing something; silently and without repose.

"Is there something the matter?" I asked with an intended softness in my voice so as to not jar his cognitive summations.

The disclaimer returned as I suspected him of formulating a response. As expected it came after a few unspoken moments; moments that, to a keen observer, seemed to command the very earth to hush in patience.

"No," he said. "I will meet you in the Talos Plaza District. I don't know how long this will take."

And without another word we rode to the city gates.

* * *

Without my scaled compatriot at my side or in front, whichever the case necessitated, the environment appeared much more alive - although in fairness it was entirely probable that it was merely the addition of a bustling, melting pot of a city, rather than a single being's measly presence. One should not mistake this for preference, however, as my extended stay (beginning at birth) on the isle of Solstheim conditioned me to resent the impermeable mass of squishy, walking bodies. Without viable reason, obviously; I signed no contract that forced me to be rational 100% of the time.

In any case, despite my companion's instructions to remain in the initial district, my whims led me to pass into the Arboretum, previously involuntarily ignored in favor of absent-mindedness. Upon finding a stone bench to utilize, I did so in a lazy fashion, mirroring the indolent way the trees swayed in the gentle breeze. This specific District was so oddly calming.

"Calming, isn't it?" a sudden rugged voice spoke. Breaking out of my trance I quickly glanced forward to see who was addressing me. "In complete contrast to the effects of the Arena. A vision of possibility, maybe."

"Ah… you!" I all but burst out of my seat and jammed an accusing finger in the interloper's direction. It was the Argonian I had met the other day, the one with the blue hood – and the one who somehow knew about Kvatch before anyone else. "Typically someone like you would never show up again after revealing such a mysterious play! But you have more bravado than the average plot device!"

The Argonian appropriately exchanged a few confused blinks.

"Don't artifice a mask of innocence!" I stated with an elevated tone, approaching him with confidence. "You knew about Kvatch, well before any of the guards in this city! Explain yourself, magician, or I will have your head!"

"…You'll… what?" he asked.

"Uh…" I stammered, lowering my arm. I was admittedly overreacting, mostly due to my overbearing excitement at getting an answer from _someone_. I wasn't about to let him know that, though. Obviously. "…Nothing. Explain, please!"

The Argonian tilted his head, frighteningly similar to the way Rasi'Mar did when he was curious enough to listen to my rambling. And like him, this one showed no ill-will. Unlike him, though, warmth seemed to exude from his character.

"I thought I did; apologies if I hadn't clarified," he started. "Or perhaps you mistook the intent of my words. I mentioned that I learned of the city's devastation the same way you did; I assume you came from there? I was on my way to this city when I passed by the smoky plumes."

I stared at him for a few seconds. It slowly occurred to me that his story was very much validated; Rasi'Mar and I were travelling _away_ from the Imperial City when we found Kvatch, and it seems as if this other Argonian was walking in the opposite direction.

"You possess the uncanny knack of being able to outwit me," I conceded. "But know this, it won't happen a third time."

The blue-hooded Argonian smiled.

"We may test that, if you'd like. Or perhaps share some pleasantries. You are in the Arboretum, after all; I doubt there's any other reason the Ayleids built it." He gestured to the bench I had escaped from following this encounter as he spoke. I obliged as he followed his own physical suggestion. "So, what brings you to this tranquil corner of the city? Did you manage to work things out with the guards?"

"Work things…?" I began to question until remembering that I had parted ways with him upon learning of Umbcano's unscheduled demise. "Ah. It was nothing," I waved away. "I'm actually waiting for my companion to finish a job of sorts."

"Of sorts?" the Argonian asked.

I nodded.

"Some sort of courier business. He explicitly informed me of its… shadier dealings, but I didn't want to pry," I explained without knowing why I decided to even divulge that much. Perhaps because subconsciously it was a subject that was besetting me.

"Like the Blackwood Company?" he asked. "Although, I don't think they work only as couriers."

I looked at him with curiosity.

"Blackwood Company? I think I've heard of them before. Don't think they've used the East Empire for anything, though. Are they illegitimate?"

"Not openly, but it's fairly obvious. Their sudden appearance and success raises a few eyebrows, but probably nothing as alarming as the Fighter's Guild is making them out to be…" he said before shrugging. "Eh, who cares, though… dull, both sides."

"How opinionated of you," I chuckled, only momentarily realizing I had responded in a similar way to Rasi'Mar about something not too long ago. I cleared my throat. "Well, if it's such common knowledge I doubt my companion is affiliated with them."

Either my facial expression betrayed the very thoughts and emotions I was currently having or this man was impeccable at reading such things without clues, because his following statement forced me to pause.

"You seemed to be bothered by this 'courier business'."

I gave a half-hearted and defeated smirk. "It's…" I started, trying to figure out how to best word the dilemma. "It's not that I'm bothered by what he is… I've had a hard time really connecting with people outside of a work environment, so I want to figure out how to best conduct myself to someone I should consider a 'friend'." I glanced at him. "The fact that I'm telling you this should attest to how pathetic that really is. I don't feel that it's right for me to judge and demand more of an explanation if I myself am unwilling to do the same."

"Are you unwilling to do the same?" he asked.

I crossed my arms indignantly.

"Are you a shrink?" I asked.

"No. Just a stranger," he answered with a warm smile. "Those tend to help sometimes, right?"

I stared at him for the odd answer. After a few moments, however, I shrugged.

"I'd like to think I'm willing. I've been tackling a decision that came to mind when I mentally conjured all of this before making the trip to the city," I continued. "I have no secrets to give, only my dedication. And before you ask… I choose that word with care. In him, my companion, I think I see a form of retribution for someone I care about dearly. But as I am now, I don't know if I can manifest that in practical terms without sacrificing _something_."

"Sounds heavy. You want to dedicate yourself to this friend of yours by sacrificing something of yourself?" the Argonian asked. "You said you chose the word with care, but are you sure this person is worth the effort? Have you spent enough time with them to make such a decision?"

My eyes stared straight ahead, probably with more seriousness than I believed I was willing to give in a conversation with this person, this "stranger".

"I've been attempting to calculate that, myself. I chose him for certain reasons and… as monstrous as this might sound… I've been testing him ever since. I suppose asking myself if it's been long enough is the correct answer to such a question, but every time it comes to mind I am only plagued with another – how long is long enough?"

He nodded. "I suppose in the end only you would know."

"Yes."

A minute or so of silence passed between us.

"Do you trust him? Or rather, is your trust in him equal to the dedication your willing to give?" he asked suddenly.

This was a good question.

"I'm not sure, actually. How does one judge that in a friend? Am I permitted to know every secret he has?"

"As I said before, I think that's up to you. Unless someone is forcing you to compromise, trusting someone completely depends on the criteria that ultimately satisfies you. Do you _need _to know everything about him? Or perhaps do you just need to know that if you asked, he will at least make the attempt to satisfy you in the way he believes is right?"

I sat in contemplation at the question. This Argonian was very apt at forcing me to consider certain variables I hadn't considered. I glanced around at the wandering passersby, wondering if they too had to think of concepts like this in order to form relationships and keep them intact. But then it hit me – I wasn't judging them. I've been judging how different Rasi'Mar _was _from the masses. Did _he _need to consider this when I asked to follow him? A slow descent of dread began to fall upon me with cold realization. How single-minded of me to force myself into his existence, without thinking of any of this.

"I think…" I finally said, "I should find out if he's actually willing to trust me."

I didn't need to look at the Argonian seated beside me to know he was once again smiling. The warmth he protruded was slightly disturbing.

"That's a very considerate way to think. I'm not sure why you're having trouble with this," he said.

I didn't want to respond to that. At the moment, I just wanted to see my companion and set this straight. Abruptly I stood, turning to face my blue-hooded accomplice.

"Thank you for the conversation. As before, it was very delightful."

"Likewise. Glad I could help."

"Oh… um… I guess this was rude of me… my name is Secura Vant. I never got your name," I introduced myself.

His smile persisted.

"Formerly Ruined-Tail," he answered. "Call me Ruin."

* * *

I returned to the Talos Plaza District as was instructed by my companion, and, surprisingly, I found him already waiting by the central garden, the nexus point for the primary establishments in the area. He spotted me immediately, though there was no malice. I had come to expect that, though for the moment I was unsure why that was. Or to be more specific, why malice would even be in the equation.

"I've finished. Are you ready to go?" he asked as I approached. The difference in tone between him and Ruin caught me off guard; the latter was warm, but I could only sense a subtle coldness in his.

"Not… not yet. There's something I need to discuss with you. If you'll allow it," I started. There was no reaction. I stifled the smile trying to escape my lips at the sight of him, once again, wanting to listen. Shaking it off, I continued. "I've never been very adept at understanding how to best conduct myself for a specific situation. I've tried to emulate what I've learned from engaging in conversation with various people, which is probably why I was as good as I was in my field." I paused to judge his reaction, but he had none. He was still listening. "What I'm trying to say is that I haven't been completely honest with you. Throughout the admittedly short time we've been traveling –"

"Stop."

I immediately stopped. In that moment I realized he had just interrupted me. He had never interrupted me before – unless it was passively due to an environmental hazard and I was rambling on about something unimportant. This time I listened.

"Keep your secrets for now," he stated. "I have my own."

I then realized what he was getting at.

"No, no… I wasn't suggesting that we become completely honest with each other," I started, gripping my forehead as I bumbled through my words. I smirked at my inaptitude. "I was trying to see if you were willing to trust me. And if not, whether it would be possible at some point. What I want to know is if we could become friends."

Rasi'Mar stared at me for what seemed like ages. His eyes then darted to the right, most likely in thought. It came to me that he was considering my proposal. Typically someone in his position would either shrug the notion off or immediately declare his dedication solely to placate the other party, without fully considering what that ultimately meant. Here he was doing neither. He _was _considering. And in that moment I came to my decision.

"…You don't have to answer," I said quietly. He glanced back at me.

"I would like to at some point."

"I know," I said, smiling. "We can go now."

He nodded and then turned around. "What made you bring this up?" he asked.

"I'll let you know when you're ready to give me your answer," I jeered. He didn't respond. My eyes then fell onto him again, as he was walking ahead of me. I snorted. "Have I mentioned that black doesn't suit you? Have you ever thought about white? You'd look good in white."

He glanced at me momentarily, but once again said nothing. I gave a toothy grin.

"Well, with my pending free time, I might be able to do something about that."


End file.
